Devil of the Sea
by Quill N. Inque
Summary: Number Two in my Historical KURTTY Series. In the early 18th Century, a young heiress is taken captive and held for ransom by an infamous pirate and his crew. But she soon learns that there is more to piracy than just pillaging... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

"_Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats."- H.L. Mencken_

Chapter 1: Pirates!

_The Caribbean Sea, 1702_

Catherine Pryde sighed quietly to herself, running her fingers in her bangs as the salty wind blew them across her eyes. The bustling activity around the young heiress was lost upon her; men scurried about the deck and in the rigging while she was absorbed in her thoughts. The vessel that carried Miss Pryde, the _Neptune, _was typical of merchant ships in that day and age. She was as plain as a mug of tea, three-masted and square-rigged, easy to turn in a breeze but slow when weighed down with goods.

And weighed down she was. The _Neptune _was packed with tea and tobacco, sopped with rum and stuffed with grain. She was bound for Boston by way of the Bahamas and the Western Antilles, but Catherine was in no hurry to get there.

Miss Pryde's father had built a rather prosperous shipping business some years back, and as his only daughter and heiress, Catherine was expected to marry someone wealthy so as to increase the Pryde family's coffers. The marriage had been arranged for her, and her new fiancée, Squire Lawrence, was indeed quite wealthy. But Catherine found her husband-to-be utterly detestable; Lawrence cared for no one but himself, and cared for his finances better than anyone in his household. He was pompous, arrogant, domineering and vain, and the thought of spending a mere moment in Lawrence's company made Catherine's skin crawl.

She gripped the taffrail angrily. Before the _Neptune _had left her hometown of Bristol, Catherine had pleaded with her father to call the marriage off. But the obstinate old man had flatly refused, for his daughter was a woman and therefore had no idea about what was best for her. So it was that poor Catherine had been traded like a cow at the farmer's market, trapped in between the machinations of two heartless men.

And to be honest, the seasickness wasn't helping either. Catherine had never been to sea before, and she had spent most of the voyage so far with her head in a bucket.

But unbeknownst to her, a little nausea was the least of Catherine Pryde's worries…

_Meanwhile…_

Through the lens of his spyglass, another watched, unseen, as the _Neptune_'s keel left a frothy wake behind her. A blue, furry finger tapped thoughtfully on his chin, and a pair of golden eyes narrowed in thought. The words that issued from between his elongated fangs had a playful air to them, as if this were a dance he had performed many times.

"She certainly seems to drawing a lot of weight. Don't you think so, Mr. Summers?"

A tall, handsome man with brown hair and an eyepatch grinned back at him. "Aye, sir. And that can only mean one thing…"

"She's packed to the gunwales," the other man finished, his tail swishing as if it had a mind of its own.

Once again, Mr. Summers found himself staring at the bizarre figure of his Captain. No other man on land or sea ever looked so strange and frightening, but how he got that way was a total mystery. Tales of his rumored origin abounded in the taverns of New Providence: some said that he had once resided in Cuba, and had warped his body through voodoo rituals deep in its murky swamps. Others claimed that he had been cursed by God for some heinous sin, while still others were convinced that he was the Devil himself.

Captain Wagner certainly looked the part: a blue, spaded tail lashed around his ankles, and the pirate leader's feet and hands were warped and disfigured. Each foot possessed only two toes, and his hands were crowned with only two fingers and a thumb. Unlike other pirates, Wagner wore no elaborate captain's garb: a red scarf was wrapped around his skull, and he wore a plain leather vest over his bare, blue torso. His breeches were tattered at the ends, brown in color and worn by exposure to the elements. And like all pirates, the Captain was well-armed. A broadly curved cutlass was thrust into his scarlet sash, and the butt of a pistol could be seen from behind his right hip. All in all, Wagner cut a dashing and fearsome figure.

Summers glanced at his Captain. "Orders, sir?"

Kurt nodded. "We give chase," he said firmly before raising his voice. "Ready the guns and bring her about! Make sail and tack on south by southeast! And ready your weapons!"

A mighty cheer erupted by the assorted rabble, and Kurt flashed his teeth in a predatory grin. "Run up a flag, Mr. Daniels. Let's be English for a while."

A darker-skinned pirate nodded, and moments later the Union Jack fluttered in the breeze…

_Aboard the Neptune…_

"Sail ho! And moving at a timely clip, sir!" High up in the rigging, a sailor's shout got every man's attention.

"Colors?" An officer replied.

"She looks to be English! A sloop, sir! I count eight guns, perhaps ten!"

"No merchant vessels run that heavily armed," another tar muttered to himself. "Something ain't right about all-"

Abruptly, the entire world exploded in a shower of wooden splinters and iron cannon shot. Without any warning or prior provocation, the pirate sloop _Sally Anne_ let off a devastating broadside just after it got within cannon range. Pandemonium reigned on _Neptune,_ which was now belching smoke and sported several lovely breaches in her hull just above the waterline.

Captain Wagner, the man known the world over as the "Devil of the Sea", clapped his hands lightly..

"Well done, gentlemen! Now I would have some music, if you please, Mr. Labeau. And run up our flag! Let's see those prissy bluebloods shake with fear!"

"_Oui_, _mon Capitaine!"_ A tall, gangly man with a heavy French accent sped below deck, emerging moments later with a rather obese drum and mallet. The drum in question had been stolen some months ago in the North Atlantic, and now its deep tones made the air thrum as the Jolly Roger took the Union Jack's place. It was a banner of Kurt's own design: a red skull on crossbones on a black flag, flanked on either side by a crimson hourglass. The death's head seemed to be laughing as it rose in the air, and the pirates gathered at the railing to strike the fear of God into the _Neptune's _crew.

_BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

The drum beat slowly, deliberately, and the Jolly Roger fluttered in the breeze as the pirates thrust their weapons into the air in time to its beat.

_BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

Like a swift bird of prey, the _Sally Anne _came alongside the _Neptune, _and Kurt Wagner felt a shiver of excitement as he stood on the quarterdeck in all his glory. With a leap and a bound, he perched himself on the _Sally Anne_'s taffrail, and the startled shouts of the merchantmen were music to his ears.

_BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

With a flourish, Kurt drew his pistol and fired it toward the heavens. His tail lashed and writhed like an agonized snake as he hailed his latest prize.

"Good morrow to you, gentlemen," he roared. "AND WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD!"

As if on cue, the pirates began working themselves into a frenzy, brandishing their weapons and describing tortures in lurid detail so as to coerce the _Neptune's _crew into submission.

"Keelhaul 'em!"

"String 'em up by the yardarm!"

"Throw 'em to the sharks!"

"Use 'em fer target practice!"

The strategy of intimidation worked. The sight of fifty drunken, jeering pirates led by the Devil incarnate took all the fight out of any who thought of resisting. What could earthly weapons do against such a creature?

The whole thing was over in a trice. A volley of iron grapnels sailed through the air, tangling with the _Neptune_'s sails and rigging and lashing the two vessels together. Like a plague of locusts, the pirates stormed onto the stricken _Neptune_, and the passengers and crew were herded onto the deck like sheep in a pen. Catherine Pryde had taken refuge in the cabin when the fighting had started, and now she trembled with fear beneath her bunk. The door splintered, then broke in two as Mr. Summers and several of his mates barged inside. The pirates stripped the cabin of everything they thought worth taking, and Summers grabbed a handful of dusty sea charts in his arm.

The resulting dust storm made Kitty sneeze.

Almost instantly, a pair of hairy, brawny hands seized her by the waist, and Kitty screamed in terror as the pirates leered at her.

"Well, well, well," a particularly nasty-looking fellow grinned. "What 'ave we 'ere, eh? I do believe we've found a…_pleasurable _diversion, mates!"

Summers drew his sword and leveled it at the speaker. "Belay that, Mr. Terrance!" he ordered. "The Captain will be the one to decide what to do with the lady! Bring her!"

Manhandled once again, Kitty was hustled roughly from the cabin and out onto the open deck, where Kurt Wagner was entertaining himself with his victims. He spoke rather casually and amiably with his terrified captives, as though he were merely on a social call.

He clapped a blue hand on a grizzled man's shoulder. "Where is it?" he asked simply.

The sailor, who was not a particularly bright spark, scratched his beard. "What?"

Kurt sighed. "Don't try to play dumb, sir," he stated flatly without a trace of his former cheeriness. "I know all ships bound for the colonies have specie on board, and if you surrender what you have, you may continue on your way unharmed."

The _Neptune's_ captain scoffed. "We do not make deal with thieves!"

One of the pirates piped up hopefully. "Can we kill 'im, then?"

Kurt turned his gaze skyward, as if seeking patience. "I fear that would make him…_slightly _less prone to talk, mate. Dead men are a notoriously unreliable source of information." He turned to continue his interrogation-

"Captain! Lookit wot we found!"

Kurt and everyone else turned around at the sudden shout, and the pirates shook with barely concealed glee at the lovely young lady who'd been bound at the wrists with a length of rope. Kurt arched a thick, furry eyebrow. "What's all this, then?" he asked, directing the inquiry at Mr. Summers.

But it was the _Neptune's _master who unwittingly supplied the answer. "Ma'am!" he exclaimed. "Get out of here! Get below deck this instant!"

Kurt's eyes seemed to drill into Kitty as he studied her. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting such…_privileged _company," he said. "Hmm…she is fine, isn't she?" There were hoots of laughter as Kitty turned scarlet, and Kurt smiled playfully at her. "What's your name, Missy?"

"I will tell you nothing." Kitty tried to put on a brave face, but failed.

"Well, suit yourself," Kurt shrugged. "In any case, I can see that _you're _worth far more than a few doubloons. Of course we're going to take those doubloons anyway, but even so, I imagine your kinfolk would pay handsomely to have you returned, eh?"

Kitty's voice shook. "What makes you so sure?"

Kurt snorted. "Please. Your dress is made of fine linen and elaborately embroidered. That necklace you sport is made of pearls, and your shoes have what I suspect are real silver buckles. Only a person of means and money could afford such things. No, I believe that whoever you are, your parents will bury us in gold to have you back."

The unscrupulous Mr. Terrence piped up disappointedly. "Who cares about that? Why can't we 'ave some fun wid 'er?"

Kurt pinched the fur in between his eyebrows. "Mr. Terrence," he said with a sigh. "Try to follow me here, okay? This young lady will be a guest of ours for the foreseeable future. In layman's terms, Mr. Terrence, we are going to hold her for ransom." Ignoring the horror on Kitty's face, he continued. "And in my experience, holding someone for ransom tends to work best when that someone is still _alive._ I hardly think Miss- what was your name again?" Kurt glanced at her.

Kitty glared right back at him.

"No matter," Kurt picked up where he'd left off. "But I don't think this young lady's relations would be willing to pay for a corpse."

"Aye, but why can't we-"

"_Am I clear, Mr. Terrence?" _Kurt narrowed his eyes dangerously, and the other man looked away.

"Aye, sir."

"Excellent! Then bring the lady aboard along with everything else, and we'll be on our merry way!" Kurt flapped a hand comically at the stunned crew of the _Neptune. _"We simply _must _do this again some time. Ta!"

"Wait! You can't do this! Let me go!" Kitty struggled vainly as two salty pirates seized her arms. "I'll see you all hang!" she shouted with a confidence she didn't feel.

Kurt ticked off the answers to her declarations on his fingers. "First off, in point of fact, I _can _do this_,_" he said with a wink. "I'm doing it right now. Secondly, letting you go is really not an option at this point. And last of all, the finest navies in the world have tried to bring about my demise, and all of them have failed. Welcome aboard the _Sally Anne_!"

With an expert grip and judicious application of pressure on Kitty's shoulder, Kurt knocked her unconscious instantly. He then nodded to Mr. Summers. "Take her below and let no one approach her but me. Feed her well and see to her interests."

Summers tugged his eyepatch in salute. "Aye, aye, Captain."

And so it was that Catherine Pryde came into the clutches of the most infamous pirate in all the world…

A/N: Well, you asked for it and here it is! The first chapter of "Devil of the Sea!" What will become of Kitty on the _Sally Anne? _Will she ever make it home? And what adventures lay in store for her? Find out in coming chapters! And as always, PLEASE REVIEW! If you have ANY ideas or constructive criticism, I would LOVE to hear it! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque

P.S. There ARE AU versions of the X-Men in this story: Mr. Summers=Cyclops, Mr. Labeau= Gambit, Mr. Daniels=Spyke, and Mr. Drake= Iceman


	2. Chapter 2

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 2: Aboard the _Sally Anne_

In the private seclusion of his cabin, Captain Kurt Wagner and his first mate, Mr. Summers, were deep in discussion over several drams of rum. Summers was probably the only man aboard ship the captain confided in, and now the two pirates emptied their bottles while enjoying each other's company.

"She still hasn't woken up, eh?" Kurt snorted. "I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Being held hostage by the likes of us is bound to fray one's nerves."

Summers winked. "But she won't be with us for long, right?"

"Of course," Kurt replied. "Assuming her relations meet our terms."

"How will they know where to find us? The Caribbean is a big place, ye know. The lady's folks might not be able to reach us at all," Summers pointed out.

"Oh, don't worry," Kurt rubbed his hands gleefully. "We'll be leaving a trail a blind man could follow. I plan to keep the men occupied by pillaging whatever comes our way, be it ships or settlements."

Summers choked on his rum. "But sir, 'tis suicide to take piracy ashore! No man since Henry Morgan has gotten away with such a thing, and he only just managed to get off clean with _Parliament _beside him! We have no such connections; even if we take only a small village, the whole world will start hunting us!"

"You seem to have forgotten that the whole world is _already _hunting us," Kurt pointed out. "And yet here we are. With that in mind, I say that this ship will hold its course, wherever it may take us. Are you with me, Mr. Summers?" the captain added, his voice sharpening slightly.

Summers sighed. "Aye, cap'n. If you lead, I will follow."

"And _that, _Mr. Summers, is why you're my first mate and not Mr. Terrance," Kurt joked. "That man's only useful with a blade in his heart."

The first mate reached for his sword. "Then you want him to disappear? I can make it look like he just fell overboard."

"Heavens, no!" Kurt shook his head. "This is not the Royal Navy. I won't go around killing or flogging everyone who disagrees with me, matey. If I did, I'd be voted out in a second, and I shudder at the thought of my fair _Sally Anne _in another pirate's grip. We will put this plan to the men, Mr. Summers; if they vote to go ahead with it -and I suspect they will- then the fun will _really _start. Imagine, if you will, the feeling of storming ashore, of sacking and leveling before making a daring escape under the stars! We'll be rich men, my friend, richer than any bloke with a title of nobility, and my lady's gunnels will be packed stem to stern with treasures the likes of which men only dream!"

"Mayhap we'll be able to pay off some governor in exchange for a pardon," Summers looked thoughtful. "Most o' them colonies can't abide pirates, but I hear those blokes in North Carolina are awfully obligin'. Mebbe we can all get a high-falutin title or some such! Imagine me as _Lord _Summers! Wouldn't that be somethin'?"

"I care not for titles," Kurt snorted. "But I do recall one day when I went ashore in New Providence, you know. A tavern wench told me the Spaniards had put a price of thirty thousand pesos on my head. And _that, _Mr. Summers, is worth more than any title you'd care to mention!"

Summers hooted with laughter, but any further merriment was cut off by a loud noise from the cabin adjoining Kurt's. Something shattered against the wall, and it sounded expensive.

Kurt winced. "I was rather fond of that vase," he said mournfully, "but it seems that our guest has awakened."

While Kitty's voice could clearly be heard, her words were muffled through the wooden door that shook violently in her bid to escape. The young woman shouted obscenities utterly unfit for a woman of her station, and Kurt glanced amusedly at his faithful first mate.

"She certainly has spirit," he remarked with not a trace of concern.

"Aye, she does that. Want me to go give her a love tap and send her back to sleep?"

"Mr. Summers," Kurt's voice was mockingly reproving. "That is no way to treat a lady! Why, the thought of laying a finger upon her makes my insides quake!"

"Aye, quake with laughter, ye mean," Summers grinned. "By yer leave, Cap'n," he added, gesturing toward the door.

"Be my guest," Kurt shrugged. "I'd feel better with you keeping an eye on things, anyway. And while you're doing that, I do believe I'll see how the young lass is faring."

"Be careful, Cap'n. She seems…_spirited._"

"Careful? Has there _ever_ been a time when I've neglected caution?" Kurt clapped a furry hand to his heart.

"I've lost count," Summers grinned, and closed the door behind him.

_Meanwhile…_

Catherine Pryde felt panic begin to consume her, terror of the purest kind, and her heart beat a frenzy inside her chest. She was hungry, and thirsty too, but the fact that she had been abducted by pirates and taken aboard their ship to be most likely be _raped and murdered _made her normally healthy appetite disappear. Catherine had already tried the door, which was locked tight, and the round glass window above her thin pallet proved too thick to shatter. There was nowhere she could go, no way to escape, and a terrified sob made Catherine's shoulders hitch as despair overwhelmed her.

"Here now, what seems to be the problem?"

Catherine stiffened. She _knew _that voice…

Captain Kurt gazed forlornly at the shattered remains of a once-magnificent piece of porcelain. "Now why did you have to go and do that?" he asked. "A wicked waste, it was. I may be holding you for ransom, miss, but there's no reason why we can't be civil."

Catherine gaped. _Did he really just say that?_ Aloud, she snapped, "Dare I inquire of that vase's previous owner?"

"You needn't worry," Kurt grinned. "He's probably right where I left him."

"And where is that?"

Kurt looked thoughtful. "Somewhere off Barbary, if memory serves, but I don't think he'll be able to tell you anything even if you manage to find him."

Horror suffused Catherine's face. "You…killed him?"

"I'd like to mention that _he_ was the one whoattacked _me_," Kurt said with an almost petulant tone of voice.

"But you still killed him," Catherine stated flatly.

Kurt winked. "Well, it was either him or me. The way I saw it, it might as well have been him."

The young woman stared at him in disbelief. "How do you sleep at night?"

"Easily," Kurt replied. "And I find a swig of hot rum helps ensure that I awake as bright as a daisy come morning."

_He's…horrible_, Catherine thought, stunned. The misshapen pirate's moral compass obviously didn't point north. "And will you kill me, too? I think you will, scoundrel, whether my parents pay or not. Once you have the money, you'll make me walk the plank or something." She averted her eyes slightly.

Kurt sighed. "I'd like to answer all of those statements and inquiries with a resounding 'no'," he said. "If your parents do not deliver, which I doubt, then we'll probably drop you off near one town or another. And for the record, all that 'walking the plank' stuff is a common misconception. If we want to throw someone overboard, we just grab him and chuck him in. It's much simpler that way. Care for a drink?" he added, offering his captive a tumbler of rum.

"It's probably poisoned," Catherine snarled.

Kurt made no effort to conceal his exasperation. "Oh, for Pete's sake! What would be the profit in that? I can't collect the money if you're dead. I'll prove it to you," he added, taking a swig from the tankard. "See? If it were poison I'd be dead now. Are you satisfied?"

Catherine was loath to admit it, but she was indeed convinced. "Yes."

The pirate smirked. "Most women are."

_SLAP!_

Catherine's palm hit Kurt square in the face. "You…you…_scoundrel!"_

Kurt's cheek was throbbing, but he didn't show it. "Eh, I've been called worse. So are you hungry or not?"

"I find looking upon you to be detrimental to my appetite," Catherine said scathingly, but her stomach contradicted her. She blushed, and Kurt winked merrily at her. "I'll tell the cook to send something up," he said. "Please, try not to pine for me while I'm gone."

"You assume far too much, _pirate."_

The door shut loudly, and Catherine fumed as she sat upon her bed. That pirate was…_infuriating!_ Talking of murder and thieving with such relish and pride, stealing from honest folk and enjoying every second of it! He was wicked person leading wicked men who did wicked things! Rogues and scoundrels, the lot of them!

Out on the quarterdeck, Mr. Summers had to struggle mightily to contain the laughter that shook his sides. When he'd gotten a semblance of a grip on himself, he turned to his captain and asked, "So how'd it go?"

Kurt made no indication of his rapidly swelling cheek. "I think it went rather well, actually. And you were right, Mr. Summers: she _is _quite spirited."

His first mate uttered a gargling, strangled sound as bellows of merriment threatened to issue forth, but Kurt merely looked at Summers with concern.

"You sound like a duck being strangled, mate. Are you feeling all right?"

Summers was desperate to find a quiet place to laugh his head off, so he confirmed Kurt's assumption. "You're right, Captain. I feel more than a little ill."

Such was Summers' haste to depart that the oblivious Kurt actually became concerned. "Wonder what's wrong with him? He certainly seemed fine a minute ago.."

A/N: And thus concludes the second chapter! I hope you all got a real good laugh at Kurt's quick witticisms, 'cause there'll be more where that came from! And in coming installments, Kitty's ex-fiancee takes matters into his own hands, while Kurt and his men begin laying waste to everything in sight! (Yes, there is going to be LOTS of pillaging in this story! XD) And I would like to confirm that there WILL be an AU version of Wolverine in this story, though in what form and fashion is for me to know and you to find out! So stay alert for coming chapters, and as always, PLEASE REVIEW! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	3. Chapter 3

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 3: Just Another Day on the Job…

It was a fine, sunny afternoon that saw the _Sally Anne _cutting through the sparkling Caribbean like a knife through satin. The pirate ship cruised the sea lanes, a bird of prey waiting for a plump pigeon to come along, but since ransacking the _Neptune _over a week before, prey had been scarce of late.

After all, wolves had to hunt, birds had to fly, and pirates needed to pillage.

With the lack of action, Kurt's crew had grown somewhat restless. Their captain had promised them that they would tear up all creation in their bid for plunder, but so far no ramparts had been stormed, no villages razed and no ships scuttled. Pirates operated on a democracy, after all: a pirate captain only remained captain as long as he was fair to his men, brave in battle, and successful in his trade. If he failed, he could very easily be voted out of office. And it was with this in mind that Kurt Wagner grew ever more anxious.

Kurt ran a warped hand across the _Sally Anne_'s tiller as he tacked skillfully into a fresh breeze. His new "guest" was doing rather well, he admitted to himself. At least she was eating. The young Miss Pryde was at least eating regularly, but her repeated requests for a walk about the deck had thus far been denied. It simply wasn't safe for a woman like that to be among men such as Kurt, and so Catherine had languished, quite bored, in her cabin ever since.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Kurt peered in all directions through his expensive spyglass, desperate for even a hint of a merchant vessel. From port to starboard he swept his gaze, but disappointment greeted Kurt's efforts. Still not a trace of-

_Hello, what's this?_

Kurt raised his voice. "Mr. Labeau!"

The gangly Frenchman from before tugged his tricorne hat in salute. "_Oui, mon Capitan?"_

"Tell me what you see," Kurt said, handing him the telescope.

"It is land," Labeau replied after a moment. "But eet iz very far away, _monsieur, _a mere speck on ze 'orizon. Will we be resupplying zere? If so, I sink it eez best to alter our course."

Kurt gave a sigh of pure joy. "Oh, we will be making landfall, Mr. Labeau, but our mission will be to acquire sustenance of a very…_different _nature."

"Sir?" Labeau seemed perplexed.

"That dot in the distance is indeed land, but it also happens to be a quite successful pearl fishing operation," Kurt said. "The waters around that island are filled with clams and oysters, and I know for a fact that this season has landed them quite a haul of fresh pearls."

"I mean no disrespect, _Capitane, _but 'ow do you know zis?"

"You'd be amazed at what you can overhear in a tavern," Kurt grinned. "Providing, of course, that the source of such information is plied liberally with rum."

"Eez it 'eavily defended?"

"Of course not," Kurt snorted. "Those moneygrubbers in Europe don't waste money on small settlements like that. Aside from the storehouses, it's probably nothing more than a tavern and a few driftwood shacks." Then the captain raised his voice once more. "Left full rudder and pile on sail, men! Run out the guns! Heading two points west! Oi, you!" Kurt directed his exclamation at a pirate standing close by. "Don't just stand there! Break out the powder and shot! Mr. Summers, Mr. Drake! Pick ten men apiece to go ashore! We'll be on those lubbers before they even know what's happening!"

" Two points west, aye, aye sir!"

"You heard the captain! Left full rudder, move lively there!"

"Weapons at the ready!"

"Powder and ball to the gun decks, as ye say sir!"

Mr. Summers felt his heart beat faster, as it always did when the scent of plunder was in the air. Within seconds, the _Sally Anne_ was alive with activity: men crawled like monkeys into the shrouds, and the pirate ship's canvas made an audible _whoosh_ as the wind caught them. One by one, the _Sally Anne's _gunwales opened to reveal the twelve-pound cannon that made up her armament. The mouths of the guns bristled menacingly on port and starboard, and Kurt waited for a split second before giving his favorite command…

"Hoist the colors, lads!" he bellowed in true pirate fashion. "Let our banner fly!"

With zeal borne of lust for plunder, a team of six men brought out the _Sally Anne's _dreaded flag. Their eyes glinted with greed, and they yelled out with zeal as the Jolly Roger took to the air.

"Heave!"

The menacing standard lifted from the deck, and a rousing cheer was heard as it waved in the salty breeze.

"Ho!"

Higher and higher the Jolly Roger went, its wordless message sending fear to all who beheld it.

"Heave!"

Kurt grinned ferociously, and he spun the tiller hard as the peaceful fishing village of Nombre de Dios hove into view.

"Ho!"

Ready for action and flying its flag proudly, the _Sally Anne _closed in on its unsuspecting victims.

_Meanwhile…_

Catherine Pryde glanced up at the sudden increase in activity. Something was going on, she was sure of it. With utter disregard to her captors' instructions, she flung open the cabin door and strode out on deck. From his position at the wheel, Kurt glared down at her with annoyance.

"What are you doing? Get back inside, miss. Trust me, there's nothing happening out here that would interest you."

"I trust you about as far as I can throw this ship," Catherine replied flatly. "What is _happening?_"

"You really wanna know? Fine," Kurt shrugged. "There's a rather wealthy pearl fishery just a skip and a jump away, and we intend to go ashore, plunder the place, and maybe burn it if the mood takes us."

"But what of its inhabitants? Are you just going to slaughter them? They've done _nothing _to you!" Catherine couldn't help raising her voice.

"I find your low estimate of my chosen profession very offensive," Kurt said crossly. "We are pirates, not savages! If they choose not to fight, then no harm will befall them."

"And if they do?"

"Then I cannot say I didn't give them the option of being spared," Kurt replied flatly. "Now, I would advise you to take refuge in your quarters, miss. If a fight _does _break out, I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

"Because you care for my wellbeing?" Catherine was skeptical.

"Of course," Kurt said. "I've told you time and again, you're no good to me dead. Mister Williams!"

A young man, barely out of his teens, saluted. "Cap'n?"

"Escort our guest back to her quarters, and see that she remains there until this is over," Kurt ordered. "When you're done, I want you to oversee the starboard guns. I intend to fire off a broadside before we row ashore, so please do make sure that your gunners' aim is true."

"Aye, sir! Right this way, miss," Williams grabbed Kitty gently but firmly by her forearm. "You'll be safer in here."

Satisfied, Kurt turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Labeau!" he cried. "Steer us into the bay and bring her starboard battery to bear! Mr. Summers, what is our speed?"

"Twelve knots," the first mate called back.

"Make it thirteen," Kurt said shortly. "Is the shore party assembled yet?"

"Aye."

"Then sweep out the longboats! We'll be making landfall shortly!"

"Aye, sir!"

Kurt whistled a merry tune to himself. "I _love _my job…"

_The village of Nombre de Dios_

The grizzled old fisherman cursed at the sight of yet another torn net. "That's the third in as many weeks," he said mournfully. "Must be losin' me touch."

"Ahoy, Jimmy!" Another man strode up from farther down the beach. "Catch anything good?"

"Naw, my net got ripped agin," Jimmy said sourly. "I hate it when it does that. Rope's hard to come by in these parts."

"Aye, but I hear that- Look there!" the other fisherman pointed out to sea. "What's that?"

"A ship, crab-for-brains," Jimmy teased. "What else could it be?"

"But we 'aven't had a ship drop anchor here in months," Jimmy's friend said with confusion. "Mebbe she 'as rudder trouble."

"Could be," Jimmy nodded. "It's comin' into the bay now. Mayhap we kin-" The color drained from Jimmy's face at the sight of the death's head flying from the ship's mast. "Oh, God…"

With all the grace of a maritime ballerina, the _Sally Anne _heeled gently over to bring her six starboard cannon to bear. From his position on the quarterdeck, Kurt waited for the perfect shot…

"Steady," he called. "Hold…"

"Hold…"

Then Captain Wagner gave his _second _favorite order. "FIRE!"

_KRAKOOOOM!_

The _Sally Anne's _gun deck belched fire, smoke and iron, and she listed heavily to port under the recoil of the blasts. The cannon shot whistled eerily as six remorseless pieces of metal sailed through the air. Kurt did not have to wait long to see its effect: a shack near the beach was practically disintegrated, and two more collapsed amidst a geyser of sand. Pieces of rubble were blown skyward in the carnage, and the citizens of Nombre de Dios ran panicking for cover.

The pirate captain climbed into a yawl beside his faithful first mate, and Kurt fingered the edge of his cutlass lovingly. "Let's go and say hello, shall we?"

Six rowboats splashed loudly as they were lowered into the water, and thirty pirates began rowing to shore…

In the town, pandemonium reigned. The inhabitants of Nombre de Dios were only simple fishermen, after all; even if they'd had weapons, they were no match for Kurt's crew of seasoned veteran fighters. The most one could do was hide and pray the pirates didn't find him.

It was all very frightening, but the sight of a devil standing in the prow of the leading longboat turned panic into hysteria. The Devil himself had come to rain terror down upon these poor souls! More than one man vowed that day never to miss a Sunday service again, but salvation seemed far away as the band of renegades leaped into the shallows and overran the town's perimeter. Kurt had a look of absolute enjoyment on his face, and he held a horn to his mouth so he could be heard by all present.

"Round them up," Kurt nodded to Mr. Labeau. "Take them alive if you can. And Labeau, _please _try not to blow anything up. I would recommend that you seek therapy for those pyromaniac tendencies."

Labeau looked severely disappointed as he pocketed two grenadoes. "_Oui, _sir."

"Now, when you round up our gracious hosts, bring them to me. We'll see if any of them will enlighten us on where they keep items of a valuable nature."

It was but the work of a moment for Kurt's men to herd the terrified civilians into the town square. Most of them had taken refuge in their homes, but such ramshackle dwellings could be knocked down with one swift kick. No dwelling was left standing by the time Labeau returned, and Kurt nodded his thanks before addressing his captives.

"Greetings, one and all," he said amiably, pacing down the rows of huddled prisoners. "My colleagues and I are…_gentlemen of fortune_, you could say, and I do apologize for calling upon you so suddenly. But you see, it has recently come to my attention that you keep a rather generous supply of pearls locked up somewhere on this island. Give it up peacefully, _all of it, _and no harm will befall you."

Silence greeted this proclamation, and Kurt pointed at a particularly scarred and grizzled seaman. "Haul him to his feet."

The man was jostled roughly, and Kurt sidled up to him with a predator's gleam in his eye. His elongated fangs were inches from the man's ear, and the unfortunate captive trembled as Kurt whispered softly.

"Where is it?"

The man looked stubbornly away, and Kurt continued his sibilant mutterings. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to tell me? It would go better for you if you did. Think of your fellow fishermen."

The man looked Kurt right in the eye. "We do not bow to thieves."

Summers drew a dagger and went to stab him-

"STAY YOUR BLADE, SUMMERS!" Kurt barked without turning around. "You are a brave man, sir, and it would pain me to kill you. It really would. There are too many cowards in this world already. I ask thee once more: Where is it?"

The old man spat at Kurt's feet, and the captain gestured at Summers.

"You want me to kill him, Cap'n?"

Kurt made a show of stepping out of the way. "Be my guest."

"NO!"

Another, younger fisherman looked away, startled by his own outburst. Kurt deftly snatched the dagger from Summers' hand, and a he toyed with its hilt as he strode up to the lad. "This one has a bit more sense in him," Kurt declared, kneeling so the two were eye-to-eye. "Would you be so kind as to tell us the pearls' location?"

The boy pointed with a shaky hand. "That house, there, sir. 'Tis a decoy. There be a hidden staircase buried under the sand, and that chamber is where the valuables are stored."

"Well done, lad," Kurt clapped him cheerily on the shoulder. "You've just saved about…." The pirate took a moment to count his captives. "Fifty or sixty lives, I'd say. Mr. Labeau, keep an eye on these lubbers whilst Mr. Summers and I retrieve what we came for."

The shack in question was a particularly disreputable dwelling that had somehow survived the _Sally Anne_'s bombardment. Kurt tore the door clean off its hinges in his haste for riches, and his bare feet soon discovered that there was, indeed, a hidden trapdoor concealed there. Kurt blew its lock apart with his pistol, and he was momentarily lost to sight as he descended into the subterranean darkness.

Summers leaned over the pit. "Find anything?"

Kurt's voice was filled with unrestrained glee. "Oh, I've found something all right…"

_Minutes later…_

It was highly probably that there was never a king or queen who looked more proud than Kurt Wagner as he and Summers carried a huge chest between them. Its tarnished hinges groaned ponderously as Kurt pried it open, and every pirate gathered there was lost for words at the sight of such riches.

The chest was practically overflowing with pearls of every size and color, from iridescent white to shiny black. There were some as big as marbles, others as tiny as pebbles, and each reflected the sun's light in its own shade or hue. It was a haul fit for legend, more riches than any man aboard the _Sally Anne _had ever set eyes upon, and jubilation seized the sea rovers as the magnitude of their newfound wealth made them giddy. More than one pirate fired his pistol into the air. Kurt, meanwhile reverently dipped his hand inside the chest and let the smooth pearls run through his fingers.

"A fine haul, I'd say," the captain said casually.

Summers grinned. "Indeed, sir."

Kurt smiled back. "Well, best not to tarry, eh? Put that cash cow in the longboat, and let's be off. I imagine we've more than worn out our welcome."

From her cabin window aboard the _Sally Anne, _Catherine Pryde also felt somewhat…_anxious _for Kurt's return.

But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why…

A/N: WOW! That was a long chapter! ^^ I hope you all have enjoyed this latest installment, 'cause there's much more to come! As always, PLEASE REVIEW! If you have ANY ideas or constructive criticism, I would LOVE to hear it! Keep a sharp eye on the horizon, 'cause very soon I will reveal the role that Wolverine will play in this story…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	4. Chapter 4

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 4: A Pirate's Dinner Guest

Any tar or salt worth his earring could not help but be mesmerized from time to time by the Caribbean's beauty.

When the sun shone, its waters glittered like a thousand sparkling diamonds under a cloudless, azure sky. The gulls and pelicans mingled their harsh, cacophonous cries with the hissing spray of the sea, the creaking of lanyards and halyards, and the groaning of ship's timbers. This was the life that every sailor, pirate and otherwise, gladly lived; they would all go weatherly to oblivion rather than remain on land. For once a sailor got a taste for life at sea, life on land had no taste at all.

The Caribbean was beautiful during the day, but it was after nightfall that its mystery and beauty became truly captivating.

The full moon cast a pale glow on the surrounding waters, a silvery masterpiece amidst a velvet canvas studded with stars, and this nocturnal luminescence made the wake of the _Sally Anne _glow softly as she wended her way across the dark waters. She appeared to be a ghost ship in such eerie settings, and the only light she gave was the soft orange glow that emanated from Kurt's cabin.

The pirate spun a piece of eight idly upon his table, enjoying the ring of its metal until it finally stopped whirling. To be honest, the coin in and of itself was only a pittance compared to the haul Kurt and his men had netted that day, but the mere sound of gold was soothing to him.

Kurt sniffed gently, enjoying the aroma of the great feast laid out in front of him. That was a plus side to being a pirate: he and his men were able to enjoy the best food and drink of every country without even having to pay the bill. An entire roast pig was the centerpiece of this evening's repast, followed by oysters sautéed in butter, fresh oranges and limes, vintage Madeira and legs of turkey and chicken. The poultry and pork were really not that uncommon of an occurrence on sailing ships. Many kept at least a few chickens for eggs and meat, and the Spaniards were well known for quartering cattle in the steerage. Thus, Kurt had decided to hold an exquisite meal with his captive in an attempt to at least convince her to behave civilly.

Kurt scowled slightly. That girl (he STILL didn't know her name) had made an effort to be contrary so far. It wouldn't do, after all, for a woman to show him up in front of his men. Weak captains didn't last long on pirate ships.

He had no doubt that the girl would come. She had not eaten for a day and a night, so she must be quite famished by now. No, the young lady would come to dine with him, for her own best interests if no one else's.

As if on cue, a sharp knocking sounded at the door to his cabin. Kurt stood abruptly, and his patience was rewarded when he saw his "guest" standing in the doorway.

The pirate's breath caught in his throat. He'd known that she was rather attractive, but…

_Wow._

Miss Pryde glanced away, as if embarrassed. She certainly had no need to be, for she looked lovely in the dress Kurt had loaned her. The dress, by the by, had been taken from a rather unscrupulous Bavarian countess who'd tried to blackmail Kurt into doing a favor for her. The captain had personally ransacked her vessel and cast her adrift in a rowboat, and now Catherine looked more stunning than the countess ever did.

Kurt finally found his tongue. "I'm glad you could join me," he said, graciously holding the door for her. "It gets wearisome at times, dining alone."

Catherine stepped inside. "Do you not have crewmen to share your table?"

"Oh, I do," Kurt replied. "But nevertheless, it's nice to have some new company." He grinned at her reaction to the feast spread before her. "Is it safe to assume that you're hungry?"

"I am," Catherine admitted, sitting down at the opposite end of the long table. With practiced hands, she daintily picked up a fine silver fork and knife.

Kurt snorted. "The rules of landlubbers hold no titles here, miss. Eat as you will, fork or no."

Catherine promptly discarded her knife and bit into a cluster of grapes as she asked the pirate something she'd been wondering for days. "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why," Catherine repeated, "did you turn to piracy?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment, and then set his goblet down. "Have you ever been to London, young miss?"

"Yes, several times."

"What did you think of it?"

"I think it's lovely," Catherine replied, confused. "It's a beautiful city."

"You see London from the eyes of someone born with wealth and means," Kurt said flatly. "You rich folks never see the London I grew up in, the London that did its best to cast me into a pauper's grave. Do you think those moneybritches give a farthing to the starving or poor? They do not. The wind blows the weak and feeble out like kindling sticks. Does the haughty coachman stop for the lame or blind? He does not. Those poor souls go under the wheel. The thirsty pray for rain or an understanding aleman, and if they get neither, they die of thirst in the squalid filth. _That _is London, the _real_ London, and it is no different from every other city in Europe. Does it still seem beautiful?

Kurt's voice grew somewhat bitter as he continued. "I grew to love money for the want of it. I was born with no name and no parents, and I hoarded or stole every haypenny and shilling I could while the preachers and religious folk threw stones at me. People like you and your countrymen _created _me and my kind, we who come from the gutters and the filthy alleys. Think me a scourge? Think me cruel? I have seen sights on the streets of London that would sear your soul.

He pointed a blue, furry finger out the cabin window. "I made a pact with _her _when I first took to the sea. The oceans gave me my freedom, and the _Sally Anne _to help me keep it. We pirates are outlaws, true, but it is only on _our _ships that one may find true brotherhood. Those that hail from Pie Corner eat alongside those from Southampton, miss. There are no classes here, and we live by a code of our _own _choosing. That's more than I can say for your precious Parliament and wretched King, who live in pomp and luxury whilst the weak and infirm die in droves. I know for a fact that those men in Parliament smile at each other even as they stab one another in the back. I, on the other hand, have never made any pretense to hide what I am, the Devil strike me down if I lie."

"I…" Catherine was momentarily lost for words, and Kurt gestured at her.

"Eat," he said again, before changing the subject. "I trust your stay has been comfortable so far?"

"I am being held for ransom," Catherine retorted. "What do you think?"

Kurt shrugged. "Just thought I'd ask. And another thing: you still haven't told me your name."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'd hate to return you to the wrong person," Kurt replied as if it were obvious. "Now come on, out with it."

"Pryde," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "Catherine Pryde."

"Well, miss Pryde," Kurt winked. "I must admit you look rather fetching in that particular outfit."

She glared at him. "I am betrothed, you know."

An amused twinkle appeared in Kurt's eye as he peeled an orange with his dagger. "Oh? To whom?"

"Squire Lawrence of Boston," Catherine admitted, trying not to let her distaste show. "He is…_very _wealthy."

"But do you love him?" Kurt inquired, leaning forward.

"It is not about love," she shook her head, sniffling slightly. "Father says no one marries for love anymore."

"Then he is a fool," Kurt said. "I saw many poor folks who married for love, and they were happier than any rich man or woman I ever set eyes upon."

"I am bound to follow his will," Catherine muttered. "He is my father."

"But does he have the right to choose who you spend your life with? Who is he to decide the way the world works? Who is he to choose another person's future? My hearties and I don't believe in that sort of thing, you know," Kurt added. "As long as the tiller is in my hand, _I _control my _own _destiny."

"No one ever asked me what I thought of the arrangement, nor did they care," Catherine admitted. "And as soon as you return me to my father, he will ship me back to Boston once more."

"Sounds like a real nice guy," Kurt said sarcastically. "We really must do lunch sometime."

"Father will see you hang, when this is over," Catherine stated. "Are you not frightened?"

"Not really," Kurt said, but his voice was sober. "You can't be a pirate and be terrified of death. It stalks us all, just abaft of the keel, and I made my peace with that fact the first time I ever hoisted the black flag. I like to think I'll die heroically in a raid or in a battle at sea, but you're right: the noose will most likely be my fate. But if that is the cost of freedom, _true _freedom, then I will accept it gladly, as will every man with me."

The captain poured a goblet of wine, and Catherine accepted it gratefully as she made another inquiry. "How did you acquire this ship?"

Kurt smiled, and the sight of his fangs made her shudder slightly. "Stole it," Kurt said proudly. "She'd moored in London's harbor one night after I'd finally had enough of begging, and I cut her loose and sailed her right out under Scotland Yard's nose. My first mate, Summers, helped me steal her that night, and he's been with me ever since. The _Sally Anne _and I took to each other right off, we did, and I decided to turn pirate as a way of getting the riches I so longed for. I _am _rich now, you know, probably a hundred times richer than old Squire What's-his-name," he added with a smirk.

Catherine polished off her plate. "May I ask when I will be returned to my family?"

"Well that depends on your old man," Kurt waved a hand nonchalantly. "I can't predict how fast he'll be able to send the money, or even when and where he'll be able to find us. I know what you're thinking," he held up a hand to stifle her reply. "He's probably gonna show up in a big warship, right? You needn't worry, Miss Pryde. My lady may be small, but she's fast. And she has more than a few surprises in her timbers for anyone foolish enough to attack us."

"Such as?"

The captain tapped the bridge of his nose. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

_Meanwhile, in Boston…  
_

Squire Lawrence drummed his fingers impatiently on his elaborate desk. Waiting had never been one of his strong points, and even more so in an emergency such as this. He'd heard through the grapevine and some well-placed spies that the infamous "Devil of the Sea" had taken Catherine hostage! The sheer nerve of that…_brigand! _How _dare _he do such a heinous thing? The mere thought of his fiancée in the hands of pirates made him shudder, but not out of concern for her well-being. Lawrence wanted Catherine alive to marry him only so he could inherit her money. It was all business, really, that he and Mr. Pryde had arranged, but now this pirate had gone and gleefully thrown a wrench in the whole thing.

And Lawrence wasn't even that attractive. He was as thin as a pencil, with a haughty and cruel air about him. He wore a monocle over his left eye, and his large lower lip gave him a perpetual pout. A nose like a squashed tomato resided in the center of his face, and his glimmering, piggy eyes were constantly on the prowl for ways to make more money. Lawrence was the epitome of capitalism gone awry, and now he glanced up with annoyance at his newest business partner.

Fear seized him momentarily, and Lawrence had every right to be scared of the man in front of him.

He was obviously a man of the sea, scarred on his arms, face and hands, with a wild hairstyle and a short, stocky build made of solid muscle. A plain-looking cutlass hung by his waist, and a noxious cigar burned out of the corner of his mouth.

"You're late," Lawrence stated. "I do not tolerate tardiness."

The seamen exhaled smoke. "I ain't one of your employees, bub."

The businessmen momentarily quailed, but regained his footing. "True, but I have need of your services, _pirate hunter._"

"Of course ya do, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Who is it this time?"

"A certain Captain Wagner. You've heard of him, no doubt."

"Yeah, and frankly, I don't relish the prospect o' fightin' 'im. He's tougher than others of his breed."

"You doubt your abilities?" Lawrence asked sharply.

"No. I kin kill 'im, that much is certain, but I don't know if _I'll _remain alive long enough to collect my payment. I want half up front, moneybags, and the other half when I bring your fiancée back."

"How did you-"

"Did my homework," the sailor said casually. "So are we doin' business or not?"

"Of course we are," Lawrence said, handing the man a large pouch of assorted coins. "You're the best pirate hunter in all the Seven Seas," he warned. "I do not expect failure."

"And I never disappoint my clients," the sailor said gruffly as he snatched the satchel. "Good day to ye, Squire Lawrence."

Lawrence had to struggle to keep his voice from shaking, such was his relief that his new employee hadn't killed him.

"And good day to you…Captain Logan."

A/N: DUN DUN DUUUN! Well, I told you guys you'd find out what Logan's role would be, and now you know! ^^ I wanted to give you guys one more chapter before I go on vacation for Thanksgiving. I won't be able to update until I come back on Monday, so please be patient, okay? ^^ Fear not, my friends. I WILL return, and I WILL complete this story, on _that_ you have my word. And as always, PLEASE REVIEW! And in coming chapters: Catherine Pryde and the captain begin to grow closer, and the infamous Captain Logan silently stalks them like a deadly shadow…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	5. Chapter 5

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 5: Foul Weather

The storm had seemed to come from nowhere.

Endless clouds of the darkest black obscured the sky, blocking out the sun and its reassuring warmth and radiance. Freezing raindrops as big as marbles fell in saturating sheets as thunder made the air shake with its deafening roar, as though the very heavens were being torn asunder. The wind howled and shrieked like a thousand wounded warriors, and the seas boiled and foamed under mountainous waves and crests. Forked lightning streaked across the sky, lending momentary clarity to the plight of the ship below.

Kurt blew seawater and rain out of his eyes and spat defiantly into the storm. His furry fingers gripped the tiller tightly, and his grim face was almost heroic if one did not consider his chosen profession. The timbers of his beloved _Sally Anne_ creaked and groaned in timing with the swell, her sails furled to prevent her single mast from snapping. He roared out orders above the din, and Kurt's brave crew, ever loyal, hurried to comply.

"Mr. Summers, make sure all lifelines are secure!" Kurt bellowed. "And get to bailing, double time! Man the pumps! If she takes on any more water we'll be having tea with the fishes!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Summers bellowed, slipping and sliding his way down the forecastle and clinging dearly to the rail. "You heard the captain! MOVE IT! Break out the pails and buckets, you swabs! Go, go, go!"

Kurt wrapped a heavy bowline around his waist, and he spun the tiller tightly so as to tack into a skillful weaving course. On the _Sally Anne_'s quarterdeck, fifty stalwart pirates heaved and bellowed as they dipped bags and containers of every sort into the waves that threatened to sweep them overboard. Though the weather was freezing and wet, the men's faces were red with the exertion of their labors. Below deck, several teams took turns sweating and straining at the bilge pumps, turning the creaky metal bars with groans of exertion as filthy water sloshed about their ankles. When one team tired, another would take a shift, and so the pirates strove valiantly to save their beloved vessel. In the urgency of the situation, Kurt's faithful mate Summers worked the men like a slave driver even as he partook in the labors himself, laying about all and sundry with a knotted rope if any were seen slacking.

Again, the _Sally Anne _dipped her prow into another massive swell, and her rigging thrummed like guitar strings with tension. More than one carefully woven rope snapped clean from its moorings, and Kurt winced as though he'd been hurt.

_Meanwhile…_

Catherine Pryde rolled clean off of her pallet with the force of the swell, and she made an audible _bump _upon contact with the timbers. Groaning and disoriented, she rubbed her aching head even as the remnants of sleep clouded her mind. Oblivious to the danger, Catherine opened the cabin door-

-And in a spectacular instance of bad timing, a massive wave caught her like a waiting predator. Screaming with shock and surprise, Catherine was swept off the deck and into the roiling depths below.

Kurt was overcome with horror and shock. It had not occurred to him to affix his "guest" with a lifeline of her own, and now Catherine had…

_NO!_

Swiftly, Kurt drew his dagger and sliced himself free from the rope about his waist. Holding the blade between his teeth, he staggered to the railing and jumped over the side, intent on rescuing Catherine from a watery grave.

Summers couldn't help screaming in horror. "CAPTAIN!" The first mate's voice was strident as he relayed orders. "MAN OVERBOARD! BRING HER ABOUT! _BRING HER ABOUT!"_

The _Sally Anne _heeled over dangerously in the heavy waters, and even her very planks seemed to groan with distress for her captain…

_At the same time…_

From his perilous position, Kurt gagged on the frothing seawater as he struggled bravely to overcome the wind and waves. His body began to tire almost instantly from exertion, but Kurt swam doggedly to the bobbing dot that was Catherine Pryde. A thunderclap as loud as a forty-gun broadside made the air tremble, and Kurt shook his head and gasped before taking another, measured stroke.

_One…_

Kurt strove to save as much energy as he could even as he went against the crests and falls of roaring seawater.

_Two…_

Again, Kurt cut the water like a knife through satin, and Catherine's unconscious body hove into view. His heart soared for some unknown reason, but wild hope turned to despair as Catherine sank beneath the waves.

Kurt followed her, and his tail thrashed madly as he dove ever deeper to save the young woman who'd come aboard his ship. His lungs were starving for air, crying out for oxygen, and for a moment all hope was lost-

-Until his hand closed around hers. Kurt would have yelled with joy, but the need to refill his lungs was paramount. The pirate's tail swished like an otter's rudder, and Kurt's saturated head broke through the water as he gasped madly for air. Catherine's form was an almost unbearable weight on his exhausted limbs. Kurt's very muscles seemed to burn as he tread water once again.

Then another flash of lightning illuminated the hulk of the _Sally Anne, _only yards away from Kurt's current position. Mentally, he thanked the stars for having Summers aboard, and Kurt neatly caught the line that was thrown to him.

Mr. Drake's voice hailed Kurt from the darkness. "Stay there, Captain! We'll pull you in!"

Kurt's voice was hoarse, but he nonetheless formed a reply. "Have Dr. McCoy ready for a patient, Mr. Drake! I'm bringing a wounded one aboard!"

"Aye, sir!" Mr. Drake sped below, while Mr. Summers and a team of ten hauled lustily on the salt-encrusted rope.

Their efforts were rewarded when their captain's sodden, bone-tired body flopped onto the planking. Kurt didn't even have the energy to stand. "Get…Catherine…safety…" he gasped, not having the air for full sentences.

Summers nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. Help me here, boys. I do believe she's got water in her lungs!"

Kurt could not reply, as consciousness left him rather abruptly. Mr. Drake cradled Kurt's blue, furry body almost lovingly as he bore the exhausted pirate to his Captain.

Belowdecks, Hank McCoy, the ship's doctor, set out an array of instruments beside a pallet made of sailcloth and straw. He was a giant of a man, with hands and feet as big as hamhocks, and fingers as thick as sausages. His hair was trimmed into two thick sideburns, but McCoy's sheer size belied the deftness with which he performed his trade. The doctor's thick, bespectacled eyes glanced up as Mr. Summers and three others bore Catherine into his infirmary.

"What's all this, then?" McCoy asked in his usual, gentle voice.

"She swept overboard," Summers replied. "We know not if she still lives, sir."

The doctor pressed an ear to Catherine's nose. "She has water in her lungs," he said, his tone urgent. "Get that corset off of her."

"Sir?"

"The corset is restricting her breathing! Do it!"

"Aye," Summer said, and Catherine's expensive accoutrement splashed unceremoniously on the sodden floor. Almost immediately, her mouth opened to expel a fountain of water. Catherine gasped, her eyes on Mr. McCoy's giant frame, and fainted dead away.

Summers went to wake her, but McCoy stayed his hand. "Let her rest," the doctor said. "She'll wake up soon enough. And when our captain comes back to us, send him down here, would you? I'd like to give him a stern talking-to about unnecessary risks!"

The first mate struggled to hide his grin. "Of course, sir."

"Now leave," McCoy ordered. "Miss Pryde needs peace and quiet. And I do believe a mug of hot rum all around would do wonders to ward off chills and colds for the men."

Summers knew that McCoy was right. "I'll break out the barrel myself. Good day, sir."

"Likewise," Mr. McCoy said, though his voice was distracted as he lifted Catherine's eyelid. "Now, let's see what the damage is, shall we?"

Even as he spoke those words, the gale began to dissipate as fast as it had arrived.

But in the dimness of the pre-dawn hours, one could just make out another vessel on the very edges of the horizon-

-Almost as if its intended attack had been foiled by the oncoming storm.

Far away to the stern, Captain Logan Howlett cursed his luck…

A/N: I'M BACK! I promised I would be, didn't I? ^^And if you will forgive the brief digression, I'd like to take a moment to answer some readers queries: First off, Kurt does NOT have his teleportation; this will be a constant throughout my Historical KURTTY series. So yes, I suppose he and Kurt could fight on more even terms. Secondly, I removed Kurt's accent because, frankly, it's not in keeping with pirate lingo. Logan's accent, by contrast, is in keeping with his normal mode of speech. And I wanted LaBeau to have a French accent because he _is _Cajun (and therefore French in a roundabout sort of way), and it would make him a little more colorful. And in the next chapter: MAJOR KURTTY FLUFF!

I hope this clears up any inconsistencies, and if YOU have any questions, comments, or constructive criticism, LET ME KNOW! I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque

P.S. To AmuletSpade: You're welcome. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 6: Pirate or Hero?

Catherine Pryde almost gagged in surprise and shock as Dr. McCoy poured a sip of hot rum between her lips. She sat up almost immediately, but the good Doctor gently pushed her back down again.

"Rest," he said in an almost commanding sort of voice. "You're exhausted and, in my opinion, dehydrated from drinking all that seawater. Don't overexert yourself."

"What…what happened?" Catherine asked bewilderedly.

"You washed overboard," McCoy replied, handing her the tankard of steaming liquid. "What on Earth possessed you to walk outside during a storm without a lifeline?"

Catherine sipped gingerly, but her face crinkled in disgust. "I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "And you are right: I do indeed feel quite foolish. Must I drink this?" Catherine added, looking at her mug mournfully.

"Yes, you do," McCoy scolded her like a mother hen. "Drink it up, young miss, every drop. Your clothes are sodden and wet, and it wouldn't do for you to catch a cold."

"Fine," Catherine grumbled. But then her tone turned somewhat sarcastic. "I suppose the captain spent the whole time safe and snug in his cabin, huh?"

McCoy rounded on her. "No," he said. "In fact, it was the captain who saved your life, at great risk to his own. Though I think he'd reconsider if he knew the extent of your ingratitude! Don't you _dare _insult our captain, not ever! He gave us all a chance to make our fortunes, and he'd never tell us to do anything he wouldn't do himself! You would be a moldering corpse at the bottom of the brine if not for him!"

Catherine felt thoroughly chastised, and she _did _feel rather guilty for her waspish comment. "Forgive me," she said humbly. "You are right, of course. I am indeed indebted to him, and I apologize for my insensitivity."

"Accepted," McCoy smiled gently at her. "Now get some sleep. I think the captain will want a word with you when he awakens."

Catherine reclined back onto her cot, and her eyes immediately felt leaden. McCoy drew a small blanket over her. "I'll bring you something to eat in a bit," the huge pirate nodded at her, but Catherine had already begun to doze.

_Meanwhile…_

Captain Kurt Wagner groaned loudly as he opened his eyes. The luxurious pillows on the bed in his large cabin did little to relieve his aching muscles. He hurt _everywhere_, and his body was so sore that it was a painful effort to merely sit up. A dry tongue rasped against his fangs, and Kurt reached immediately for a flask of wine on a nearby table.

"Easy now, Captain," Dr. McCoy chided him as he entered the cabin. "It's not good to drink it that fast, especially after an ordeal such as this."

Kurt winced. "Am I to assume that you've brought me one of your noxious medicines?"

"Yes," McCoy said cheerily as he handed the mutant a small glass container. "This tonic will work wonders, you know."

"Is it a rule that all medicinal remedies must taste horrid?" Kurt joked as he accepted the remedy. "Why can't you make a good tasting cure for once?"

"I would, if I had access to the right ingredients," McCoy riposted playfully. "But _someone _is too stingy to make port that often."

"You wound me, sir," Kurt held a furry hand over his heart. "What did I ever do to deserve that?"

"Aside from jumping overboard during a storm? Not much," McCoy said. "May I ask why you exhibited such a spectacular lack of common sense?"

"I…" Kurt was momentarily lost for words. "She's no good to me drowned," he said finally.

"Liar," McCoy stated. "That isn't the _real _reason, is it?"

Kurt glanced at him. "May I take you into my confidence, Mr. McCoy?" he asked.

"Always, Captain," the doctor replied.

The pirate glanced away for a second, as if ashamed. "This girl, McCoy…she confuses me. I feel such anxiety, such a myriad of emotions, when I am around her; I feel self-conscious in a way I never did before. I've never felt this way around anyone, especially a woman! For Pete's sake, if she even _glances _at me I feel all…_giddy_ inside_._ I can feel that Pryde is changing me," he added with a somewhat mournful expression. "Before I met her, I was always confident of who I was, but now…I cannot help but think that I would willingly be anything she asked me to be. Her very presence is intoxicating, and though I would never admit it, she is _very _beautiful. I couldn't _bear _to see her hurt."

"You are smitten with her," McCoy said promptly. "And though I am sympathetic, I'm afraid that no amount of scholarly discipline would suffice to advise you as to your next course of action. Just be yourself, I suppose, and maybe she'll start to feel that way as well."

"How can I be myself if Pryde hates what I am?" Kurt seemed to accept McCoy's prognosis. "She makes no attempt to hide her distaste of my chosen profession."

"You don't know that for sure," McCoy shook his head and remembered Catherine's shock at who her rescuer had been.

"I _do _know that," Kurt replied despondently.

"No you don't."

"Actually, I do."

"How do you expect her to have faith in you when you do not have faith in yourself?" McCoy scolded. "I know for a fact that you've had quite an effect on her as well."

"I do?" Wild hope suffused Kurt's face. "What'd she say?"

McCoy winked. "Patient confidentiality, I'm afraid."

"Oh, come _on_," Kurt groaned. "Please?"

"Why don't you go below and find out for yourself? I'm sure she'd be glad to have some visitors."

"That sounds like a grand idea," Kurt winced again as he stood somewhat unsteadily. "Tell Summers that he has the command for now."

"Aye, sir," the doctor nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, McCoy?" Kurt's voice stopped him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for your counsel," Kurt said humbly. "And, if I might ask, your discretion."

The doctor's eyes twinkled. "Of course, sir," he said with a grin.

Kurt took a deep breath, and a swig of wine to steel his nerves. "Well, nothing will get done just sitting here, I suppose," he said. "Time to make sure my heroism wasn't wasted…"

_Minutes later…_

Kurt stepped gingerly down the wooden gangway, and the dimness of the _Sally Anne_'s lower decks made his vision cloud momentarily. Each creak of the wooden steps made him wince. Catherine would not appreciate being woken so abruptly, and Kurt felt a desperate need to make her feel comfortable around him.

What _was _it about her that made him feel this way?

Kurt couldn't help sighing softly in bewilderment as he took a seat only feet away from Catherine's slumbering form. Since she was obviously not inclined toward conversation at the moment, Kurt took a moment to study her a bit more closely.

His eyes followed the gentle curve of her cheeks, her delicate nose, and her slender hands. A few stray locks of hair framed Catherine's face, and she sighed softly in time with her breathing.

Kurt felt his face heat up. _How does she make even the most mundane of actions seem so adorable?_

As if in response, Catherine sat abruptly, and yawned cavernously in a manner totally unbecoming of a lady. She made a noise like a small kitten as she stretched, and Kurt tried to keep his tone conversational.

"Sleep well?"

Catherine jumped, and Kurt felt a volley of invisible arrows shoot through his heart. _Does she really feel that uncomfortable around me?_

The young lady turned to face him. "You startled me, Captain," she said.

Kurt felt his heart plunge into his belly. "Sorry," he muttered contritely.

Catherine was somewhat bewildered at the heartfelt apology, but the look of abject sadness on the pirate's face made her pity him. "It's all right. I should have expected you, I suppose. Dr. McCoy said you'd be stopping by."

"Yes," Kurt nodded. "I…I wanted to make sure you were okay."

_That _took her completely by surprise. "Oh. Well, um, I think I will be fine before the day is much older."

"Good," Kurt said sincerely. "I was afraid you'd drowned."

"I do not die that easily," Catherine retorted. "But in retrospect, I can see how foolish my actions last night must have looked to you."

"No matter," Kurt replied. "It's over and done with."

Catherine raised her head, so that her eyes gazed directly into Kurt's. She wanted him to see the sincerity in her gaze. "Thank you," she said.

Kurt felt his face heat up again as her pupils bored into his. "F-For what?" he asked, stammering like an idiot as his thought process began to go offline.

"For saving me," Catherine clarified. "Dr. McCoy told me what happened."

If at all possible, Kurt's blush deepened. "It was, uh, nothing," he said quickly. "I just, uh, couldn't let you drown like that, right?"

She smiled, and Kurt felt as though he'd been given wings. "Of course," Catherine said. "And I am glad to see that your ship has not foundered."

"Posh. It'll take more than a storm to sink my lady," Kurt scoffed. "But we did take some damage, mostly to the sails and rigging. Half of our bow was snapped away, too. I've had Summers set a course for a secluded island where we can make repairs."

"You do this often?"

"Occupational hazard, I suppose," Kurt shrugged eloquently as he stood to take his leave. "But I do not want to deprive you of your rest, Miss Pryde. I will return later, though, to make sure you haven't up and died on me."

Catherine laughed, and Kurt thought he'd never heard a more beautiful sound. "Do not get your hopes up, _Captain._"

The pirate clomped back up the stairs in high spirits-

-But Catherine was almost somber, for she could not seem to figure out why her heart was pounding in her chest…

A/N: Well, I promised you fluff, didn't I? XD I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far, and as always, PLEASE REVIEW! If _YOU _have any ideas or constructive criticism, I would love to hear it!

Coming up in chapter seven, we will find out that _someone_ in Kurt's crew is not as loyal as he appears…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	7. Chapter 7

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 7: Mutinous Murmurs

The island was, for all intents and purposes, a tropical paradise.

It was an insignificant speck of land on the shining blue Caribbean waves, and its lush green jungles teemed with the cacophonous sounds of wildlife: bird chatter, the screech of monkeys, and the relentless beat of the frogs and crickets that chirped and croaked at all hours of the day and night. Food grew in abundance here, too. The trees and foliage teemed with obese, plump bananas that were just waiting to be plucked from the fronds overhead. The sweet aroma of juicy pineapples hung heavy in the air, mixing with the scent of mist, seawater and sand. Coconuts, too, grew in abundance, almost as if in anticipation of famished sailors. The sweet coconut flesh could be eaten raw or cooked, and its milk was perfect for quenching a tar's parching thirst. The isle was uncharted, too, lying outside the trade routes frequented by the Royal Navy and merchant vessels alike, a paradise lying quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

So needless to say, it was perfectly suited to Kurt Wagner's needs.

The pirate sloop _Sally Anne _lay on the beach like a stranded whale, listing heavily to port amidst the glittering white sand. Kurt had beached her there so as to attend to her needs. After all, his beloved ship had taken a fair amount of damage in the storm that had almost claimed Catherine's life, and he needed to provide fresh food for his crew, especially the tropical fruits that served to ward off scurvy.

A pirate captain needed to take care of his crew. Kurt's men all ate like haymakers, so acquiring provisions was always on his "to-do list". The _Sally Anne _could do with a fresh caulking, now that Kurt thought about it, as the tarred ropes that were nailed between the ship's planks tended to wear out in a matter of months. And as long as Kurt was going about repairs, he figured he might scrape the barnacles from the _Sally Anne_'s hull as well. Those barnacles were the bane of all sailors, as buildup on a vessel's underside could drastically decrease its speed and maneuverability.

And to be honest, no tar had ever objected to a little shore leave when it came his way.

Kurt's men always joked that their captain loved his ship more than his own life, and that enough of his blood had soaked into the _Sally Anne_'s planks to make the two almost related. Kurt had never denied the truth of such proclamations, and now his stalwart hearties swarmed over her with mallets and brushes and buckets of pitch, while others clambered up her hull with awls and scrapers. The audible thumping of mallets and the hiss of fresh tar could be clearly heard as Kurt padded along the beach. He glanced lazily at the _Sally Anne_'s cannon as he passed: the guns had been positioned behind ramparts of sand in the event of an attack or raid. It never hurt to be too careful.

The pirate wiggled his bare feet delightedly in the warm sand, but Kurt's reverie was broken as Summers appeared by his side. The first mate tugged the edge of his tricorne hat in salute.

"How is she?" Kurt glanced back down the beach.

Summers was confused. "The young lady or the ship?"

"Both, I suppose."

The other man cleared his throat. "I've split the men up into teams, sir. Mr. Drake is overseeing the _Sally Anne'_s shrouds and sails as they're being mended, and I've got some of our strongest hearties at work chipping off barnacles. Mr. Terrence should have the pitch and caulking ready by now, too."

"Yes, those buggers can be rather difficult to remove," Kurt admitted. "Make sure they're motivated, okay? Offer first pick at provisions to whichever team makes the best repairs. I find that always works better than swinging a knotted bowline at all and sundry."

"Aye, sir," Summers said, but then he grew thoughtful. "That Terrence is gettin' a bit too big for his breeches, if I might be so bold to say, Captain."

Kurt made a face. "He is a rather unscrupulous fellow, isn't he? I shudder to think what would have happened to Miss Pryde if _he _were captain."

"Don't bear thinkin' about, do it?" Summers grimaced.

"That man needs to be reminded who is in command," Kurt noted. "Terrence has been challenging my orders and contradicting me at every opportunity. I have no problem with getting a second opinion, of course, but he's starting to grate on my nerves. It would not do for me to be shown up in front of my men."

"Your orders, sir?"

"We do nothing right now," Kurt shrugged. "I hate to leave this unresolved for even a moment, but I want the men to be of fine temperament before I have words with Terrence. He has friends aboard, you know, and I need to ensure their loyalty before I do anything drastic."

"He's a fine carpenter, though," Summers noted.

"Aye," Kurt replied, his eyes betraying the worry he was beginning to feel. "But not a good pirate."

"Miss Pryde was most relieved to be on dry land again, sir," Summers mentioned. "But she is still too afraid to talk to any of our hearties. Mayhap she'd be glad for your company. It'd be a shame for anyone to spend such a fine day alone."

The first mate's insinuation flew right over Kurt's head. "A splendid idea, Summers," he said gleefully. "Where is she anyway?"

Summers pointed. "Back down the beach apiece, but not too far."

Kurt was gone before he'd finished speaking.

_Meanwhile…_

As it happened, Catherine Pryde _wasn't _spending the day alone, but the kind of company she found herself in made her wish she was. The young woman's eyes widened in terror as a grizzled pirate leered at her, showing the rotted stumps of his teeth. His eyes glittered with malice, and Catherine could smell the alcohol on his breath.

A meaty hand seized her arm in a grip of steel, and Catherine sobbed in terror. " 'Ey, now, what's all this?" the rover sniggered. "Ye don't need to be afraid o' me, lassie. I'm just havin' some fun wi' ye."

She opened her mouth to scream, but the pirate pressed a dagger against her lips. "Ah, ah a-a-ah," he chided. "None o' that, now. Can't 'ave that goody-goody Summers ruinin' our sport, can we?"

He pushed Catherine to the ground, and she felt her heart thunder in her chest. _Oh, God…No!_

The old tar laughed callously as he pinned her to the sand-

But his merriment was cut abruptly short as Kurt Wagner arrived on the scene. His sharp golden eyes took in the situation in a trice, and anger boiled in the captain's veins. Had he not ordered that no harm was to come to the girl? Had he not explained, quite clearly, that the ransom would not be paid if she were dead?

Authority and orders aside, Kurt's anger had a much more personal level. How _DARE _this…this…_scoundrel _try to do something like that to Catherine? Blind fury overtook Kurt's normally cheery demeanor, and his furry hand flashed toward the pistol in his belt.

It all happened in a flash. Kurt drew the firearm, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

_CRACK!_

The pistol discharged its deadly cargo with an acrid stench of spent powder, and blood spattered the sand as Kurt blew out the back of the other pirate's skull. The felonious fellow died instantly, slumping to the side in a growing pool of crimson. Kurt shoved the corpse deep into the shrubbery.

Catherine felt her fear turn to nauseating horror at the swift, merciless fashion with which Kurt had dispatched his crewman. She darted away with a breathless, heavy gasp, but Kurt was quick to reassure her. He caught her hand in his own, drawing her close to him, and Catherine sobbed against his firm chest as Kurt ran his fingers through her hair. Normally, Catherine would have objected to such…_intimate _treatment, but her terror overruled her common sense.

Kurt kept his voice both calm and gentle. "It's all right. He won't hurt you now, Catherine."

Her voice hitched, and Kurt felt his heart wrench at the sound of such distress. "He-he was going to…and you…you…"

"I would recommend that you take a deep breath before you start hyperventilating," Kurt said quietly. "Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you need water?"

Kurt was somewhat shocked at the overwhelming desire to comfort the young woman before him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to care for Catherine.

"Just-just-stay here for a while," the young lady said, her voice a little calmer. "It would…make me feel safer."

"Of course," Kurt said, a little too quickly. "You should probably, um, sit down, I guess." With the return of Catherine's senses, so too had Kurt's self-consciousness and insecurity, and now he was very unsure of what do next.

In an extreme rarity among pirates, Kurt really had _no idea _how to relate to women. The seaside prostitutes that entertained his men in port held no appeal to the young mutant, who found their promiscuity repulsive.

He'd _never _admit it to another living soul, but Kurt Wagner was, in fact, still a virgin.

And now the pirate captain, so bold and brave in battle, struggled to even speak coherently when in Miss Pryde's company. "Nice weather," he said lamely, in a desperate attempt to make conversation.

Catherine glanced upward. "We do not get much sunlight in Bristol," she commented. "If it is not raining, it is snowing or sleeting. Only rarely do the clouds break back home." Again, Catherine savored the feeling of sunshine on her face. "It is lovely here. I've never seen such wonders before."

Kurt shrugged. "I've been to this island many times, but I guess it would seem a bit overwhelming to someone not accustomed to the clime."

A brilliantly colored parrot hopped along a tree branch overhead, and Catherine gasped. "Look at that!"

Kurt followed her gaze, and his grin was genuine. "Like what you see?"

"It is nothing like pigeons or seagulls," Catherine admitted.

He nodded. "That's a parrot, miss. You find them all over the Caribbean, you know. They make great pets, too; some of my hearties keep a few aboard." The pirate took a hardtack biscuit from his breeches pocket and handed it to her. "Hold that out like this, and those birds will walk right up to you. Watch."

Kurt whistled, and the bird abruptly landed only a short distance away. Its tiny eyes were fixated on the hardtack in Catherine's palm, and it began moving forward with a curious hop-skipping gate.

Catherine held her breath as the tiny bird approached, but her apprehension turned to delight as the parrot lunged and snatched the biscuit rout of her palm.

The bird strutted about for a moment, as if proud of its achievement, and vanished back into the foliage.

Kurt relished the happy look on Catherine's face. "Told you," he said with a playful smirk.

Catherine punched him playfully in the arm. "Stop being so cocky," she retorted. "Your ego is bigger than your vessel."

He clapped a furry hand to his heart. "Your barbed words wound me to my very core," Kurt said with mock despair. "How can one such as you be so cruel?"

Catherine's laughter echoed through the tropical paradise.

_Farther down the beach…_

Mr. Terrence took a swig of rum before smashing the bottle on a nearby boulder. He was scowling angrily, which was more or less his general state of existence. His sharp-angled face and thick stubble gave him a naturally shifty appearance, and his upper lip was scarred in such a way as to create a perpetual sneer.

Shifty he may have looked, but the conspiracy Terrence was formulating was shiftier still.

The carpenter glanced about at the assembled rabble, fifteen in number and comprised of the most ruthless and vicious members of Kurt's crew, a rabble to whom larceny and wickedness was second nature. They had all agreed to attend the clandestine meeting.

In Terrence's opinion, the _Sally Anne _was in need of new management. In layman's terms, he was plotting mutiny against his captain.

"Wagner is too soft," Terrence began to a general chorus of agreement. "That lady, fer example. We be 'oldin' 'er fer ransom, aye, but why not 'ave some fun wid 'er first? 'E's gone an' grown hisself a sense o' honor, 'e 'as, and that ain't proper in our line o' work, mates. Not proper at all. I say we get rid of 'im and that kiss-arse Summers! What say ye?"

"I'm wid yer," another man said. "I'm tired o' all o' Wagner's rules. We should be actin' like proper pirates, an' I don't owe no loyalty to any man who's gone soft."

Another hearty drew a dagger from his belt. "Can we kill Wagner now?"

"Not yet," Terrence said. "The Cap'n may be a softie, but 'e ain't a fool. I'll wager he's 'avin me watched, that's why I called ye all the way here. Otherwise Summers woulda got wind of all this. Nay, we move when I t'ink the time's right, an' not before." The ringleader gestured to a small cask of ale and a set of beakers. "If'n yer wid me, mates, take a drink wid me to better our fortunes. Cap'n Wagner'll be shakin' hands wid the sharks soon enough."

Every cup dipped into the cask as the pact for rebellion was sealed.

A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUN! Looks like dark deeds are afoot right under Kurt's nose! Will he discover the plot before it's too late? Will Kurt and Catherine ever admit their feelings? And what dark secrets lie in Captain Logan Howlett's mysterious past? Find out in coming chapters! And (you all probably knew this was coming), PLEASE REVIEW! If you have any questions, advice, or constructive criticism on how I can make this story better, LET ME KNOW! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	8. Chapter 8

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 8: The Mysterious Captain Logan!

(A/N: Due to my own negligence, I accidently posted a previous chapter of Hunted and Hated instead of this chapter. I sincerely apologize for this, and rest assured that I will avoid making such mistakes in the future.)

Kurt Wagner hummed a tune to himself as the _Sally Anne _prepared to get under way, and the Jolly Roger atop her mast seemed to wave in farewell to the tropical paradise that would soon be fast disappearing into endless blue of the Caribbean. The pirate could almost _feel_ that his beloved ship was as eager and anxious to get underway as he was, lusting as he did for fresh riches and plunder. His mind danced with images of crowns, scepters, doubloons and jewels of every color. The ship bucked like horse under the strengthening tide. The breeze freshened, and Kurt cupped a hand to his mouth.

"C'mon, mates! Let's get this tub out into the open sea! There's loot to be taken just beyond the horizon! Mr. Drake!" he added, directing his query to the ship's bosun.

"Aye, sir!" Drake called back from his position in the shrouds.

"Take us away," Kurt yelled. "And be quick about it!"

"Aye, Captain!" Drake's young voice boomed as he turned his attention to the men on deck. "Loose all sails!"

The _Sally Anne's _shrouds and sheets made a cheery sight as they caught the wind, and the pirates unbound them with practiced ease. Their agility was unexpected in fellows of their size, as they balanced on the yardarms with the grace of mountain goats. On the creaking wooden deck, Mr. Summers and a team of ten strained and sweated at the giant wooden wheel in the middle of the planking. Their audible grunts of effort joined the slow clanking of the iron anchor chain as it was hauled from the deeps. Summers' face turned red as a tomato with the sweat of his effort, and this did not escape the Captain's notice.

"Make sure those hearties get an extra ration of rum," Kurt murmured to his first mate when he joined him at the wheel.

Summers' grin was like a peeled banana. "Yes, sir!"

"Mr. Terrence, is all in order?" Kurt yelled.

Inwardly, Terrence seethed at the sight of such a freakish, misshapen creature clutching the _Sally Anne_'s tiller. How he dreamed of the day when he could throw Kurt's lifeless body overboard and take command for himself!

The carpenter showed no sign of his anger. "She's seaworthy, all right," he said.

"Good," Kurt nodded. "I'm of a mind to go a-raiding in New Spain for a while. There's a lot of villages and such dotting her coasts, you know."

"But we've already pushed our luck, sir," Terrence said angrily. "The only reason that the Nombre de Dios raid succeeded was because we were not expected! The Spaniards will surely know of our intentions far before we get there! We'll make land to find ourselves facing an army! 'Tis a fool's idea!"

Kurt glared at him, and Terrence noticed the dangerous gleam in those golden eyes. "I appreciate your input, Mr. Terrence, but I will _not _tolerate being spoken to like _that. _That is, unless you are prepared to challenge me for captaincy?" The mutant's hand strayed to his sword.

It was only with a Herculean effort that Terrence kept his face from betraying his anger. "Nay, sir."

"I thought as much," Kurt snorted. "Now back to your station!"

Terrence nodded, but the moment his back was turned, his features contorted with fury. How he detested that…that…_freak!_ Wagner would end up getting them all killed! How he _dreamed _of the day when he could throw the fool's lifeless body overboard!

The carpenter gritted what was left of his teeth. _Soon…_

As the fuming sailor vanished below deck, Catherine Pryde took his place in the sunshine. The wind and waves seemed to be rejoicing at the _Sally Anne_'s return to the ocean, as the sky was clear and the wind in her favor. The salty breezes made the blood sing in Kurt's veins, and his smile only broadened as Catherine sidled up next to him.

"Where are we going?" Catherine asked. "I know it is none of my concern, but—"

"Oh, please. It is the concern of everyone aboard this ship," Kurt brushed her modesty aside. "And this ship sails wherever I want to be. That, by the by, is the coast of New Spain. Those lovely little towns and hamlets are like a big cookie jar to the likes of us: small, within spitting distance of the ocean, wealthy and most of all, weakly defended. I daresay that the Spanish governor will faint dead away when he hears of our exploits."

"And if a ship comes along? What then?"

"We plunder it, too," Kurt said magnanimously. "I am nothing if not even-handed, and this old gal is a match for any ship afloat, now that she's seaworthy again!"

"I see." The corners of Catherine's mouth twitched, but her eyes were sad.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked.

"I was thinking…of the man you killed on the beach," she admitted. "The memory still frightens me, Captain, to think of how…"

Kurt nodded. "How merciless I was?"

Catherine looked ashamed. "Yes."

The pirate sighed. "I won't lie, miss: I'm not too proud of some of the things I've done. But I won't lose a moment's sleep over _him. _That man defied my orders: I specifically stated that no harm was to come to you. And the sight of what he was about to do…I suppose my temper _did _get the best of me."

"And if it hadn't?"

"He'd still be dead, but he'd have had a formal trial to plead his case," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "In all fairness, my method of dispatching him was more merciful than he deserved. Had that tar been found guilty by his hearties, he would have been tied to the mast while every man stuck a dagger in him."

Catherine gasped. "You'd…you'd do that?"

"It is our way," Kurt said simply. "When a hearty joins a pirate crew, he signs our Articles in blood and swears to uphold them. He is bound to his word, and we don't take kindly to those who break the Code. But I will venture to say that pirate justice is much fairer than those high-blown courts in England. The man I killed would have had a much fairer trial on the _Sally Anne _than in an English courthouse."

"But you still killed him."

"And the same fate awaits any other man who would dare do you harm," Kurt said grimly. "I promised you that you would be safe until the ransom is paid, and I intend to keep that promise."

"I thought pirates never kept their promises," Catherine joked.

Kurt winked at her. "Don't believe everything the _London Times _tells you, Miss Pryde."

_Meanwhile, many leagues away…_

The ship's bow sent up a gently hissing spray as it nosed quietly through the Caribbean waters, her sails filled with the salty breeze in the midday heat. The _Predator _was middle-sized, as vessels go, sporting two masts and a fine set of square-rigged sails, and her sleek, slim hull lent her speed and maneuverability in the water. She boasted a considerable armament of sixteen cannon, and crewed by seventy-five men. The _Predator _outmatched any pirate ship afloat, for she could withstand more damage and dish out more than the pirate vessels she hunted. Her low draft allowed her to follow the buccaneers into the shallower waters where larger warships couldn't go. Her mainmast sported a black hoist with no design upon it, and now the _Predator _moved at a timely clip as she stalked her latest prey, a silent and deadly shadow just waiting for the right moment to go in for the kill.

Most of her crew was lazing about in drunken stupors, but the windows of the great cabin on the _Predator_'s stern were aglow with the soft light of candles, a testament to her captain's determination.

And determined he was. Logan Howlett, the infamous pirate hunter, never left anything to chance.

His breathing was almost synchronized with the groaning of the ship's timbers, and Logan took a swallow of rum as he poured over an assortment of papers that detailed the exploits of Captain Wagner. His mind worked like a sponge, and a small smile stretched his scarred face. Wagner might have been an outlaw, Logan decided, but the pirate definitely had a set of big brass balls. The recent raid on a pearl fishery was proof enough of that.

Wagner didn't seem to rely on firepower very much, Logan decided. Trickery, surprise and deceit were his modus operandi, and that made Wagner all the more dangerous. A pirate who used his brain was far more deadly than a pirate who relied only on cold steel and gunpowder, and Logan's mind buzzed as he formulated his strategy accordingly. His meaty hands gripped the bottle on the table's edge, and the golden, spicy alcohol disappeared down his gullet.

Wagner was not a man to be underestimated, Logan knew. He was as staunch and salty a pirate as there ever was, and the _Sally Anne _had pulverized and plundered dozens of ships far larger than the _Predator. _That meant that the pirate sloop was much stronger than she appeared, and Logan wondered idly what kind of tactics Kurt would use when the two men inevitably clashed.

His chair scraped along the floorboards, and Logan took a minute to glance around the walls of his cabin. He had an… _odd _sense of décor, to say the least, for the large room that Logan slept in doubled as a sort of trophy display. It was covered from wall to wall in flags.

_Black _flags.

Banners and pennants taken from defeated pirates adorned Logan's quarters, each and every one a grim reminder of a captain and crew who'd kicked their last at the gallows. Skeletons, hourglasses, skulls and bones, the symbols that had struck terror into the world's sailors, now served only as a silent testimony to Logan's prowess and ability.

The pirate hunter glanced at a blank space on the timbers, just above his bed.

There was room for one more….

A/N: Uh, oh! Looks like the plot's starting to heat up! What adventures await the pirates in what is now Mexico? Will Mr. Terrence succeed in his evil scheme? And will Logan add another banner to his collection? Find out in coming chapters! And, as I always say: PLEASE REVIEW! The readers' feedback and well-rounded reviews are the lifeblood of writers, so don't be shy if YOU have any suggestions or ideas! ^^ And I would like to answer a few more of the readers' inquiries: To all of you who asked, Kurt and Summers do NOT know of Terrence's plot as of yet, as discovering the conspiracy too early kinda defeats the point of having it in the story! XD And to pointyearsrule: Good guess, but I don't plan for the story to turn out _quite _like that. And as for having more than one antagonist: You're right on the mark. Terrence and Logan each have their part to play, but not necessarily at the same time…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	9. Chapter 9

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 9: A Most Epic Battle

_(A/N: I would like to say, once again, that the incorrect chapter I posted the other day has been replaced with the right one. So if any of you didn't get to read it before, I hope you enjoy it!)_

The _San Cristobal _ was quite large as sailing vessels go.

She lay heavily in the water, bucking and pitching in time with the swell. Though her three masts had canvas to spare, the light breeze that filled her sails was only just enough to inch her forward. The Spanish flag hung almost limp from up in her shrouds, and the great ship resembled a big, cumbersome beast as it lumbered on its way. Galleons were slow due to their great size and unwieldy in the best of conditions, but their sheer bulk made them perfect blue-water sailing vessels. Like all vessels in the Spanish fleet, the _San Cristobal _sported a formidable firepower, possessing a score of guns and more than enough crew to man them all. This combination of size and strength was sufficient to make most sea rovers and pirates give the larger ships a wide berth, but if a crafty soul managed to take one, it would be the proverbial mother lode.

It was whispered among pirate circles of the riches that the galleons carried aboard, mined and quarried from Spanish possession in Mexico and South America. Silver and gold ingots piled like mountains, barrels filled with emeralds and sapphires, and chests stuffed with doubloons and ducats and pieces of eight. The thought of such wealth spurred many a man into the sweet trade, but only rarely did he come into possession of such fabulous treasure.

It would not be a stretch to compare the _San Cristobal _to a great fish as it sailed blithely on its way.

And everyone knows that where there are fish, there are sharks…

_Meanwhile…_

From the _Sally Anne_'s crow's nest, Mr. Drake called out with excitement. "SHIP AHOY!"

Kurt exploded from the solitude of his cabin. "Where away, Mr. Drake?"

"Six points off our bow!" the younger man yelled back. "A three-master, sir!"

"Colors?"

"She looks to be Spanish!" Drake couldn't keep the excitement out of his tone.

Summers looked thoughtful. "Treasure ship, do you think?"

"Aye," Kurt nodded. "And armed to the teeth, most likely. Those vessels run heavily armed."

"The _Sally Anne _can't take that kind of punishment for long," Summers warned. "And we are armed only with lesser cannon, not the thirty-pound monsters the Dons have."

"True, but our size will let us run rings around the Spaniards," Kurt winked. "If we keep our vessel out of her broadside reach, then we can pound her without presenting a target. We will circle around and cut in front of her bow, see? If that galleon cannot bring her main battery to bear, she's helpless. I've seen it before: the Dons always try to sink the other vessel with a single, devastating broadside, then ram the crippled ship and board her. But if we keep moving…"

"They won't be able to touch us," Summers finished. "It is fascinating to watch your mind work, sir."

"I've always thought so," Kurt's grin was predatory as he climbed the forecastle and took the wheel, putting two fingers in his mouth and giving a shrill whistle.

"To your stations!" The pirate bellowed. "Pile on sail and run out the guns! Break out the powder and shot, you sons of swabs! We'll be rich as kings before this day is over!"

A mighty cheer greeted Kurt's proclamation, and fifty pairs of feet pounded the deck of the _Sally Anne _as the pirates raced to secure their belongings and fetch their weapons. Mr. Labeau, the pyromaniac gunner, grinned viciously as he sped below and into the cramped quarters of the _Sally Anne_'s battery. The gangly Frenchman cradled an iron cannonball in one hand and a cylindrical package of powder in the other, and he set about his task with both zeal and smooth action borne from years of practice.

Do not let Hollywood deceive you: back in the day, loading and firing cannon was both difficult and occasionally dangerous. Before any ammunition could even be inserted, one first had to use an implement called a rammer (which consisted of a wooden pole topped with a cylinder soaked in damp cloth) to clean the cannon's barrel of any loose dirt or leftover powder inside. Then, a pre-measured sack of powder called the charger was inserted. This was a dangerous step, as one needed to take extreme caution not to spill any of the powder on the gun's barrel or on the deck as it was being inserted. Any spillage could catch fire and blow up the cannon or, in rare cases, the entire ship itself. When the charger was safely loaded, the rammer was used once again to pound it deep into the cannon's bore. One man would usually go about this task, while his mate would hold a finger to the cannon's rear vent to prevent the powder from leaking. A second charger was then loaded in the same manner as before, followed by a wad of straw or rags. When this was completed, the gun was swabbed with another implement called a sponge, or a wooden pole with a soft, feather end that was dampened prior to use. After all of this was completed, the shot was carefully placed inside the cannon, which would then be fired on command.

The whole process required a team of two to three men for each gun, and reloading could take up to two minutes. Kurt's veteran fighters, however, were usually able to cut that time in half. Labeau watched with pride as the pirates went about their duties quickly and efficiently.

Fourteen broadside cannon in all were now only a spark's touch away from discharging their deadly load.

Kurt heard Labeau's proclamation from below deck. "Ve are ready to fire on your command, _monsieur!"_

"Well done!" the captain yelled back, before turning back to the job at hand. "Brace the fulyard! We'll need every inch of sail if we're to take this vessel! Move, move, move!"

"Am I to assume that there will be a fight shortly?"

Kurt jumped at the sound of Catherine's voice behind him. "Don't _do _that!" he scolded, but his voice held no anger. "You could scare a fellow to death one of these days!"

"I should think you can do that all by yourself," Catherine retorted, looking him over.

"Well, when you're right, you're right, I suppose," Kurt admitted. "And yes, I do believe that a difficult fight is ahead. I do not believe that these Spaniards will lie down as easily as the sailors on _your _vessel. This galleon will be tough nut to crack, and that's why I need you to get inside and lie low. It wouldn't do for a lady to have to see such things."

"Do I have a choice?" Catherine scowled.

"No," Kurt shook his head. "You don't . So make it easy on yourself and get back inside, okay?"

Catherine wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. The young woman had no experience of fighting or combat, and she'd just be in the way. Her voice gave no doubt as to her disappointment. "Very well."

"Thank you," Kurt said, and he meant it. He'd already saved Catherine twice, and had no desire to put her in jeopardy again. If she had died while under his care….Kurt shuddered. _I'd never forgive myself..._

His furry hand spun the tiller hard, and the _Sally Anne_'s bow sent up spray as she moved in for the kill. The _San Cristobal_ was less than a hundred yards away now, and still gave no sign that her crew had noticed the ship sneaking up behind them. Kurt snorted with derision. These Spaniards obviously had no discipline at all, to let an enemy sneak up on them unnoticed.

Then, from across the water, a faint cry was heard. _Now _the _San Cristobal _had spotted them, and the Spanish ship turned ever so slowly in an attempt to bring her port battery to bear.

Kurt merely swung the tiller over again, and the _Sally Anne _came sharply about, avoiding the potential threat and bringing her own cannon within range.

The pirate captain knew every timber and ratline of his vessel, and years on the blue waters had turned him into a masterful sailor. The _Sally Anne_ was sharp in her attack, whereas the Spaniards were typically slow to respond. The sloop veered into a zigzag course under Kurt's hands waiting for just the right moment…

Kurt had an almost sixth sense when it came to these things. He could literally _feel _when the opportune moment came. His spine tingled with anticipation, but Kurt forced himself to remain calm.

_A little more…_

The galleon turned this way and that, helplessly trying to get a lock on the _Sally Anne_'s erratic course.

_A little more…_

Below deck, Mr. Labeau clenched his hands with apprehension…

_Now._

"ON THE DOWNROLL, FIRE!"

Labeau heard the order, and brought a hand down to signal his gunners as he brought a fuse to the gun's touch-hole. "FIRE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

_KRAKKKOOOOM!_

One by one, the _Sally Anne _sent iron death whizzing toward the _San Cristobal_. The iron shot rained death and destruction on her lower decks, shredding men with splinters and wiping several unlucky gunners from the face of the earth. The galleons timbers were stained red, and she swayed heavily under the impact.

Labeau wasted no time. "Reload, _mis amis_! Faster, damn ye, FASTER!"

Again, shot and powder were thrust into the balefully smoking mouths of the remorseless cannon…

Meanwhile, from his position at the wheel, Kurt was bellowing orders of his own. "Pistols and cutlasses, men! Grapnels at the ready! Prepare to board!"

The pirates, high on adrenaline and lusting for plunder, roared and bellowed like animals as they prepared for combat.

"Cut 'em into deuces!"

"Spanish blood for Spanish gold!"

"Let's teach those Don's a lesson! Hahaharr!"

Kurt signaled to Summers. "Get down there and tell Labeau to blow her mast clean off! If she can't turn around she can't hit us!"

"Aye, captain!" Summers disappeared below like a rat down a drainpipe.

Smoke and licks of flame could be seen belching from the _San Cristobal'_s hull, and Kurt spun the tiller recklessly to bring the _Sally Anne _into position again. Kurt's plan was to cripple the galleon, give a last broadside and board her in the confusion. It was a strategy that had worked well in the past.

Then the wait was over.

"FIRE!"

Again, the _Sally Anne _rained suffering and pain upon the Spaniards, and more than one was sent flying into the rigging amidst a shower of broken timbers and planking. An enormous, agonized creak suddenly filled the air, and Kurt gave an adrenalized laugh as the _San Cristobal_'s mainmast splintered and toppled into the water like a felled tree. The Spaniards who'd been unlucky enough to be aloft at the time fell to their deaths upon the shattered deck or tumbled into the water.

The wind freshened, and Kurt's infamous flag seemed to be laughing at the _San Cristobal_'s crew. The _Sally Anne'_s master knew that the moment was right.

Captain Kurt Wagner, the "Devil of the Sea," twirled an iron grappling hook above his head. "Follow me, mates!" he roared. "Let's go an' say hello, shall we?"

A flurry of barbed prongs sailed through the salty air, and the pirates swung across the water with exultant shouts and cries. Kurt clenched a dagger in his teeth, and he flung the thin-bladed weapon with skillful accuracy before he even touched the _San Cristobal_'s deck. Kurt's aim was true, and a Spaniard fell with the knife between his shoulder blades.

Then the slaughter began.

The pirates fell upon the Spaniards without mercy, and the battle raged back and forth in the cramped conditions of close-quarters fighting. Kurt drew a pistol in each hand, and he fired the weapons with gruesome effect. Two combatants fell slain, and Kurt promptly reversed his grip on the pistol in his left hand, so as to use the brass-capped butt to bash yet another man's head in. Bits of bone stung Kurt's cheeks as the Spaniard's skull collapsed.

Kurt dropped the spent weapons almost casually, and his cutlass seemed to _materialize _in his three-fingered hand. The pirate captain parried a thrust to his midsection and, in true pirate fashion, punched the Spaniard in the face before running him through. A circular sweep of his blade made a rasping sound as Kurt neatly deflected a rapier's blade, and a skilled flick of the wrist sent the Spaniard's weapon flying. Kurt took advantage of this opportunity and promptly cleaved his foe into longitudes. The deck became drenched in crimson, and Kurt spun with an almost artistic grace to avoid a blow that would have almost certainly killed him instantly. The pirate turned on the ball of his foot, lacerating the Spaniard's back and slashing another's chest in one fluid movement. The blade of Kurt's cutlass seemed to shine gleefully as its edge dripped with gore.

Three Spaniards rushed Kurt at the same time, blades drawn, but he was not worried. He slew the first with a cut that flayed open his face, grabbed the fallen man's sword and stabbed another through the side as the force of his charge carried him past. Kurt pushed the body to one side, deflected a heavy overhead swipe and neatly decapitated the third Spaniard with a scissor-like motion of the two weapons.

By now it should be apparent that there were none among the pirates better with sword and dagger than their Captain. He skillfully sidestepped a decapitating slash, slicing his foe's belly open before pivoting around and cutting down another. A Spanish marine tried to pierce Kurt through his neck with the edge of a marlinspike, but the mutant used his tail to trip his opponent up by his ankles before seizing the stunned man's weapon and stabbing him through the throat as he went down. Without even a backward glance, the pirate captain parried a slash to the sternum with the haft of a boarding axe, stepping inside his assailant's guard and parting the Spaniard's hair with the hatchet's blade. The man dropped like a stone, spurting scarlet, but Kurt was too focused in the heat of battle to notice.

Such was his concentration that Kurt failed to see another Spaniard taking aim with a pistol from less than three paces away. Such a blow would be instantly lethal, and the Spaniard knew it.

From the safety of the _Sally Anne, _Catherine Pryde knew it too.

Her heart almost stopped beating as she saw Kurt's unseen foe grin maliciously, and her normally sweet and kind nature was replaced with an overwhelming need to help Kurt. The thought of his death was absolutely horrid to Catherine, but for the life of her she didn't know why.

She was still wondering why when the young heiress grabbed a musket laying about on deck, picked it up, and fired.

It is worth noting, once again, that Catherine had no experience with such things.

But this apparently did not stop the lead musket ball from burying itself in head of Kurt's would-be assassin. He dropped like a stone, killed instantly.

Kurt gazed at the fallen man with bewilderment, then back across to his own vessel. Astonishment and admiration crossed his blue face, and Kurt gave her a thumbs-up before throwing himself back into the fight.

But Kurt was not the only man of his crew who fought valiantly that day.

Labeau cackled loudly as he stormed into the fray, and his chest hung heavy with bandoleers laden with grenadoes and explosives. These the Frenchman lobbed into the Spanish ranks with deadly effect, and the Dons fell like ninepins, mutilated and gashed by shrapnel. Mr. Summers and Mr. Drake fought as a team, back-to-back, and soon the deck around them was cluttered with bodies.

There was no quarter given between these bitter enemies. Though they fought bravely, the Spaniards were no match for the battle-hardened pirates. Kurt broke a man's nose with his elbow, and was just about to slit his throat when-

"_No! No!" _ The man cried, dropping his sword to the deck. "_Nos rendimos!"_

That seemed to be some sort of signal, since every other Spaniard that was still breathing followed the man's lead.

Kurt was fluent enough to know what the defeated man meant. The pirate tilted his chin back with the point of his sword. "You will surrender this ship and everything in it," Kurt stated. "Or you are dead."

"_Si,_" the Spaniard gasped.

Kurt nodded, and his grin might have made the Cheshire cat proud. "The ship is ours, my hearties!"

"HOORAY!"

The assembled rabble broke into spontaneous jubilation, and combat was forgotten as the pirates began pillaging the ship with relish. Cries of astonishment and glee could be heard as the _San Cristobal_'s cargo was dragged on deck for all to see.

It was more than Kurt could have ever dreamed of. All the riches of England couldn't compare to the wealth that he and his men had taken today. Jewels of every color, from amethyst and turquoise to rubies and diamonds, ran onto the planking like a river from a wondrous dream. Coins of every nationality spilled onto the deck in mountains of gold and silver, and glided swords and magnificent pistols protruded from chests heavy with blunt.

Kurt could have cried, he was so happy.

With speed borne of lust for riches, the pirates loaded all of their ill-gotten gains onto the _Sally Anne_. Kurt opted to spare the remaining Spaniards, as they had surrendered honorably, and now he jumped gleefully aboard his vessel. Kurt's blood sang with the song of conquest and riches, and it was at moments like these that he felt the most _alive._

But his joy was tempered as he saw the stricken look on Catherine's face. Kurt instantly remembered the way she'd dispatched the Spaniard and saved his life, and now he tentatively laid a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

The first kill was always the hardest, Kurt reflected silently, and Catherine's body heaved with despair.

Kurt wanted her to stop crying. He wanted _so much _for her to stop crying. The sight of Catherine in such distress caused the pirate anguish on a level he'd never felt before.

When he spoke, Kurt's tone was grateful. "Thank you," he said humbly, "for saving my life."

"But I-I…_killed him!"_ Catherine sobbed. "I am a murderer!"

"Would you rather that I had died?" Kurt asked quietly.

"N-No…"

"If I had been slain, the Spaniards would have taken us all prisoner, including you," Kurt said somberly. "They would probably kill all of my men, Miss Pryde, including Mr. Summers and Dr. McCoy. You might be sold into slavery. Would you want that?"

Catherine took a shaky breath. "No."

"Then by killing that Spaniard, you have in fact saved all of our lives," Kurt concluded matter-of-factly. "I don't know if that's any help, but it at least puts it in perspective."

Catherine's grin was weak, but it was still a grin, and Kurt felt his heart soar at the sight. "I suppose…"

A/N: WOW! That was a long chapter! I saw the movie "Master and Commander" on TV today and it got the old juices flowing! XD I hope you all have been enjoying the story so far, 'cause in the next chapter, Mr. Terrence's conspiracy deepens as dark plots form aboard the _Sally Anne…_ As always, PLEASE REVIEW! I think we all know how hard fight scenes are to write, so I would LOVE some feedback on what you thought of this one! ^^ I _did _try to make it epic, but if _you _have any suggestions or ideas on how I can write better ones in the future, LET ME KNOW! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	10. Chapter 10

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 10: Quickening

The days and nights that followed the sacking of the _San Cristobal _were among the darkest the Caribbean had ever experienced.

Kurt and his men plundered every class of ship from every country. They tore up all of creation, broke it into bits they did, from the Carolinas to New Spain and back again. Frigates, galleons, sloops and brigantines were all devoured by the _Sally Anne_'s insatiable appetite for plunder. Wherever the renegades sailed, they left a trail of blazing, burning wrecks and hulks in their wake. No vessel was safe from Captain Wagner, whose infamy and notoriety grew with each audacious attack. His sheer nerve was his greatest trademark, and many an "impregnable" or "invulnerable" city or vessel fell merely with the shock of being attacked in the first place.

Nothing, it seemed, could stop the _Sally Anne_'s captain. Kurt Wagner was now, by far, the most famous and feared pirate in the world.

The folks on dry land fared no better. When the pirates tired of plundering the ocean, they took their trade ashore, to ransack and hold for ransom any town or settlement within spitting distance of the sea. Kurt was even-handed in his crimes, as the wealthy hamlets were pillaged just as thoroughly as the poor fishing towns and whaling ports. The entire region was paralyzed with fear, and every merchant sailor lived in fear of the appearance of a sail. Kurt's flag was by far the most dreaded sight on the wind and waves.

But to his credit, Kurt made an effort to avoid unnecessary bloodshed whenever possible. Any ship or port that surrendered without resisting could expect to be treated rather reasonably. Many of the poor souls who had resigned themselves to an orgy of rape and pillage were instead surprised when the pirates departed with most of the town's structures still standing. An amusing incident occurred when Kurt sailed right into Nevis and sacked every ship at anchor there. Those ships belonged to foreign merchants, who, not understanding what was going on, demanded receipts so as to prove to their investors what had happened. A thoroughly amused Kurt was only too happy to comply.

That is not to say that the pirates didn't have their share of violence. A full-scale, pitched battle was fought on the Guatemalan coast with a certain town's militia. The fighting lasted for two days before the pirates routed their foes, and Kurt then made an example of this particular colony by burning it to the ground before the _Sally Anne _departed.

The navies of the great European nations were stunned by the complete suddenness of the biggest pirate onslaught in living memory. No buccaneer since the legendary Henry Morgan had so thoroughly devastated the Spanish Main, and so the great warships of Spain, Holland, France and England flooded into the Caribbean to apprehend the man the _London Times _called, "that man of such cunning and wickedness, the pirate Kurt."

For his part, Kurt Wagner delighted in running rings around the men-o-war sent to kill him. It never failed to provide him and his hearties with glee to thumb their noses at the law.

The _Sally Anne _was packed with spoils from stem to stern, and the sheer magnitude of Kurt's wealth would almost certainly boggle the mind. Gilded swords and daggers, each a beautiful work of art, stood upright between mounds of gold and silver coins, their hilts encrusted with precious stones. Huge bags of gold dust jostled for space with the bolts of silk and lace and fine woolens, and these provided a cushion for many exquisite pieces of china and glassware. The tiny cups and teapots were themselves used to contain the gemstones that were as many as leaves on the trees. Rubies, emeralds, turquoise, and amethyst were mixed indiscriminately with golden chalices, brooches with diamonds the size of a pigeon's egg, and rings of every size and shape. There were so many coins from so many countries that it would be impossible to recount them all. Brazils and guineas made a wondrous noise as they ran through Kurt's fingers like a shining fountain of fabulous wealth, and ducats and rix dollars lay scattered about willy-nilly. For once in Kurt's impoverished life, he was riding the gravy train.

But not everyone aboard the _Sally Anne _was willing to follow Kurt's orders. The mutinous carpenter, Mr. Terrence, secretly burned with anger and jealousy against his captain. He hated Kurt for accumulating the glory and fame that Terrence desired for himself, and the mutant's more civilized methods made Terrence and his followers see him as a weakling.

Kurt, though ignorant of the conspiracy, made no effort to get on his carpenter's good side. Terrence challenged Kurt's orders and his plans at every opportunity in an attempt to prove himself, and the insubordination only served to heighten Kurt's disdain. He despised Terrance as much as Terrence despised him, and the antagonism they shared only increased with every haul Kurt brought on board his ship.

Now, in the darkness of the sloop's galley, Terrence and his conspirators spoke softly in the muted light of a tiny lantern.

A tar with an earring and a glass eye stabbed a knife into the tabletop. "How much longer are we supposed to wait?" he snarled. "The Cap'n grows more an' more popular with the men wid each passin' day!"

"Aye," a man with a red beard and a bald head growled in assent. "We're wantin' to move, _now!_ What's the holdup?_"_

Terrence bowled the speaker onto the floor, and the blade of his dagger almost tickled his eyeball. "Lissen, greedyguts, _I _say when we move, an' not before, see? The time ain't right yet! Talk ter me dat way agin an' I'll make ye eat yer own tongue!"

"An' when _will _the time come?" A third mutineer asked. "How much longer are we to wait? The Cap'n still lives, no thanks to ye an' all yer schemin'!"

"Not for long," Terrence's eyes glittered wickedly. "I spoke true when I said the Cap'n 'ad gone soft, mates. We kin make 'im give up this ship widdout even firin' a shot!"

"How?" the first speaker's hand strayed to his dagger. "Ye seem very confident, Terrence."

"_It's that girl_." Terrence's voice was a sibilant hiss. "The Cap'n 'as fallen for 'er with a crash louder'n ship's timbers, even a blind man can see that! There ain't nothin' he wouldn't do to keep 'er safe, eh?"

Recognition dawned in the red-beard's face. "We take the girl," he whistled. "That'll make ol' Kurt see things our way, right enough! But 'ow'll we do dat? She's always wid the Cap'n!"

"Not always," Terrence corrected him. "She has a cabin adjacent to Kurt's. O' course, 'tis usually locked, an' only two men aboard have a key: the Cap'n and 'is loyal dog, Summers. We'll nab Summers when no one's lookin' and get 'is keys, see? An' when we 'old the wench…"

"We hold all the cards," another concluded. "But what 'appens after Kurt gives up the ship?"

Terrence cocked his head and looked at the speaker dubiously. "There's on'y one place fer Kurt an 'is cronies, mates, an' that's at the bottom of the sea. But mebbe we kin amuse ourselves a little wid da lass first, eh? No sense in being so wasteful, after all."

"What do you want us to do?" Red beard asked.

"Keep an eye on Summers, an' jump 'im as soon as he's vulnerable," Terrence ordered. "Be ready to move at a moment's notice, you lot, especially if the Cap'n starts sniffin' around."

"So you want us to kill 'im?"

Terrence cuffed the speaker soundly. "Not yet, idjit! Do what ye want wid the rest: kill 'em, flog 'em, keelhaul 'em, I don't care! But mark me: Wagner's _mine_, d'ye hear me? MINE!"

The tar looked away. "Aye…_Captain._"

A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter than what you are accustomed to, but I am unfortunately quite busy with end-of-semester final exams(grimaces). Needless to say, I might not be able to update as frequently as I'd like, but I give you my word that as soon as the exams are over, that situation _will _be rectified. I'll be _damned _before I leave my readers in the lurch, as such actions are not the trademark of a serious author. Anyway, I felt that since I might not be able to post new chapters as quickly as before, you all had a right to know why. I truly apologize for this, and I will try my hardest to have the next installment up as soon as time permits, because _very _soon the despicable Mr. Terrence will make his move. Will Kurt discover the conspiracy in time? What will happen to Catherine? And what has the mysterious Captain Logan been up to all this time? Find out in coming chapters! And, as always, PLEASE REVIEW! Readers' feedback is the lifeblood of authors! ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	11. Chapter 11

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 11: Logan's Mysterious Past: Revealed!

Captain Logan Howlett felt the salty breeze bathe the weathered skin of his face. The bow of the _Predator_ dipped and rose in time with the waves, but the bucking motion was almost comforting to a man of the sea like Logan.

For weeks now, the blade-for-hire had pursued one lead after another, in an attempt to divine the _Sally Anne's _next destination so as to surprise the pirates there. But the problem with this was that much of the information Logan had received had been either stale or faulty. This Wagner bloke was thorough in his campaign of terror, Logan mused. The way his quarry pillaged rich and poor alike made it almost impossible to tell where he would show up next.

Any normal man would probably have given up in the face of one setback after another. The storm only recently had foiled what would have been a perfect surprise attack. The _Predator_ had been approaching, unseen, on the _Sally Anne_'s stern, but the inclement weather had allowed her to escape in the darkness. Logan, to his extreme irritation, hadn't been able to pursue her as he was very much preoccupied with preventing his _own _vessel from foundering. The timing of such bad luck was truly astounding.

Despite his ill fortunes, Logan still doggedly pursued the _Sally Anne _almost out of sheer stubbornness. The way Wagner had eluded his unseen foe only made Logan more and more determined to capture him. As the most famous and feared pirate hunter in the world's oceans, Logan had a reputation to uphold. He always prided himself on never letting a target escape, and Logan had no intention of starting now.

The pirate hunter's tenacity was his greatest strength. Logan, while possessing a fiery temper, was almost paradoxically patient when doing his job. The _Predator _would simply follow reports of raids and sightings until she got lucky. It was a strategy that had served Logan well in the past.

He sighed. Though Wagner was a scoundrel, Logan _did _sympathize with him a little, having been a homeless waif himself. The system that kept the poor men destitute and the rich men wealthy was what drove sailors to piracy in ever-greater numbers. Logan had no intention of turning pirate, but he did occasionally come across a foe who merited respect as a rival captain.

Though he was loath to admit it, Wagner was just such a man, if he was indeed a man at all. Though Logan had never set eyes upon him, he had heard of his foe's fearsome appearance. It was shrewd of Wagner, he reflected, to use that as a psychological weapon.

But personal feelings had no place on the _Predator_. Logan may have respected Wagner, but the fact was that he had been hired to hunt him down, and the pirate would ultimately meet his end while dancing the "hempen jig" on the gallows. The girl was the second objective, and that prissy pants Lawrence wouldn't pay up if Logan did not bring Miss Pryde back as well.

Logan hated the man who had hired him. It was self-absorbed pricks like that Bostonian blueblood who created the black hoist in the first place. Lawrence was obviously more interested in Miss Pryde's money rather than her personal safety, and Logan knew without a doubt that their marriage would be an unhappy one.

Just like his own, he thought, as his mind wandered to a memory that had been burned into his brain…

_Newfoundland, twelve years ago…_

_Logan shut the door behind him, eager to be out of the cold wind and rain so the fire could warm his bones. He was younger, and the spark in his eyes lent him a cheerfulness that he no longer possessed. His body lacked the telltale scars from countless engagements at sea, and Logan's face had a youthful demeanor that would eventually be replaced by a hard cynicism. A wicker basket, carefully covered with a clean piece of sailcloth, lay under his hairy arm._

_He had been a merchant sailor in those days, content to make an honest living so as to support his new wife. Logan's marriage had brought him joy and happiness that he had not felt under the roof of his abusive father, and despite the months at sea, Clarissa was always waiting for Logan when he returned._

_Unlike his wealthy, drunkard of a father, Logan loved his wife. He had been unwanted as a child, and so his lovely Clarissa was life's greatest treasure to him. Logan showered her with love and affection, spurning the advances of seaside prostitutes that tried to seduce the young sailor. Logan would think of her often when he was away on the high seas, and a special locket about his neck was engraved with Clarissa's image so that he might always keep her close._

_Logan loved his wife with all he had, and almost every shilling he made went to supporting her. The steaming loaf he carried now was of raisin and cinnamon, a favorite of Clarissa's that Logan had purchased as a homecoming gift._

_His heavy seaboots clomped up the small flight of stairs in their modest dwelling. "Clarissa? I'm home, sweetheart!"_

_There was no reply._

_Logan ascended the top of the stairwell, and his brain did not want to believe what he was hearing. _

_The door to their bedroom was closed, and from the sound of it, Clarissa was not even close to sleeping. A man's voice, muffled by the wooden panels, was barely audible over the rustle of sheets._

_The basket dropped from Logan's nerveless grasp, and a breathless sob escaped his shaking lips as he felt his heart break._

"_Everything I did, I did for you," he mouthed silently. _

_Tears spilled from the corners of Logan's eyes as he was assailed by his beloved's infidelity, and the ache that settled in Logan's chest was one he would never be rid of. The shattered pieces of his once-happy marriage would haunt his every waking moment forever._

_And as his love perished in fires of hurt and betrayal, so did his faith in people. A part of the young sailor _died _that day, and it was a bitter and broken man that left the Howlett residence that night. Logan carried only what would fit over his shoulder, and his meaty hand snapped the locket's delicate chain from around Logan's neck._

_The wind howled, the seas roared, and the thunder crashed as Logan ascended a steep hill in the freezing rain. The bitterly cold droplets mingled with the salt of his anguished tears, and Logan's shoulders heaved as he approached the precarious edge of a sheer cliff that hung over the raging, foaming waters. _

_With a final gasp of misery, Logan flung his precious locket into the fathomless deeps. A streak of lightning illuminated his grieving shape, and Logan clenched his fists as he threw his head back._

_The storm on that fateful night was wild and cacophonous, but no earthly sound could mute the scream of Logan's shattered heart. The cavernous cry that burst from his body seemed to contain all the suffering and sadness of mankind in its deep, mournful tones, and Logan felt his eyes glaze over as his anger and betrayal overwhelmed him._

"_RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"_

Then his mind returned to reality, and Logan felt a fresh pang of sadness pierce his heart. The past had little appeal to him now, Logan reminded himself. What's done was done, and that life had been given up long ago.

Logan took a drink from his pewter hip flask, hoping the buzz from the liquor would serve to ease his never-ending pain.

But it never did.

And it never would.

A/N: Another short chapter, I know, but I felt it was time to give Logan a little background before returning to the _Sally Anne_ and the diabolical machinations of Mr. Terrence. But never fear: I will elaborate on that some more in the next chapter, so don't be too impatient! ^^ As always, I wholeheartedly welcome the readers' feedback and suggestions, so let me know if YOU have any ideas on how I can make this story better! And I gotta say, even _I_ feel sorry for Logan, and I'm the one who wrote the thing…poor guy. :(

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	12. Chapter 12

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 12: Mutiny!

_(A/N: Yes, this is the moment you've all been waiting for!)_

It was a calm, warm evening that found Kurt's loyal first mate, Mr. Summers, swigging a bottle of rather fine brandy as the _Sally Anne_ slowly nosed through the trackless oceans. The air was rather hot, muggy and still that fateful evening, and the pirate ship's sails hung slack with barely a whisper of a breeze to fill them. The darkening skies were tinged with the very last of the sun's glow before the golden orb slipped below the far-off horizon, and Summers yawned cavernously as the humid weather made his eyelids leaden.

The pirate's worn black boots clomped up the railway as Summers climbed to the forecastle for his turn on watch. A vessel as infamous as the _Sally Anne _could not afford to let down its guard, after all, seeing as how every nation in Europe wanted Kurt's head on a pike, and every man aboard was required to do his part in keeping an eye out for potential targets or enemy warships. Kurt had even gone to the trouble of drawing up the roster himself.

Summers grimaced inwardly as the dubious Mr. Terrence clutched the wheel of Kurt's beloved ship, turning the tiller ever so slightly to keep the _Sally Anne _on a direct course. Terrence's eyes were fixed ahead, and to Summers' astonishment, the carpenter nodded rather cordially at him.

"Muggy out, ain't it?" Terrence said. "I never was very fond o' hot weather, bein' from England an' all."

Summers made an effort to hide his suspicion. "Cap'n says I'm to take watch," he stated. "You are relieved, Mr. Terrence."

The mutineer made a show of sweeping off his greasy tricorn hat. "Awfully decent o' ye, Mr. Summers, but I'm afraid I ne'er gave ye any such order, mate."

"You are _not _the captain, in case you've forgotten," Summer snapped.

Terrence winked. "That's where ye're wrong, mate," he said jovially. "This ship be in need of a _real _Cap'n. Now, mates!"

On the carpenter's muted shout, two of Terrence's cronies jumped Summers from behind a large barrel, and a wooden belaying pin made an almost comical _bonk _as it collided with Summers' skull.

Terrence smirked as he retrieved the ring of metal keys from the belt around his fallen enemy's waist. "I'd say this be nothin' personal, but that'd taste a lie," he said. "Lock 'im in the brig, along wid Drake an' Labeau an' all o' Wagner's other toadies. An' bring the girl to me while ye're about it!"

His henchmen saluted. "Aye, Cap'n."

_Below deck…_

Mr. Drake, the young bosun, snored loudly as his hammock swayed in time with the swell. But his peaceful slumber was interrupted as a big, hairy hand clamped over his mouth. A heavily tattooed pirate leered down at him.

"Now, now," the mutineer chided. "Can't 'ave ye raisin' the alarm, can we?"

Then a huge fist smacked into Drake's jaw, and he knew nothing more.

_In the _Sally Anne_'s powder room…_

Remy Labeau, the pyromaniac gunner, lay sprawled across a cushion of powder cartridges, grenadoes and iron cannon shot. A ramrod lay haphazardly across his chest, rising and falling in time with his breathing.

But then the door was wrenched open, and Labeau blinked blearily as the harsh light of a lantern ascended the short flight of stairs.

"What iz zis?" he asked groggily. "I em trying to zleep 'ere!"

"I say when you kin sleep," Terrence snarled, before the pommel of his cutlass rammed into the side of the Frenchman's head, dropping him. "An' I say ye kin sleep when ye're dead! Take 'im!"

_At Dr. McCoy's sickbay…_

The gentle giant that served as the ship's physician was deeply engrossed in the copy of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ that he was reading by candlelight. So engrossed, in fact, that the studious McCoy didn't notice the door creep open, or hear the soft tread of boots as his unseen assailant tiptoed up behind him.

So when the mutineer thrust the small jar of knockout hers (pilfered from McCoy's own apothecary), the doctor only had time for a grunt of surprise before he passed out completely.

_Minutes later, outside of Kitty's cabin…_

The stolen key turned in the lock, and the _ch-chack _from its gears was all the signal Terrence's men needed. The mutineers stormed inside, dragging a Catherine from her bed with such speed and suddenness that she was speechless with terror. The young woman opened her mouth to scream-

-but was abruptly silenced as the edge of Terrence's dagger forced her head back. "Hush now, missy," he grinned, showing his stumpy, rotten teeth. "I'd be keepin' me trap shut if'n I was you."

Catherine had no choice but to nod, and Terrence spun her roughly around.

"I need ye to do somethin' fer me," he growled, gesturing with the blade. "Git o'er there an' knock on the Cap'n's door. Say anythin' but what I tell ye, an' I'll use Summers an' the rest fer targit practice."

Rebellious, angry tears threatened to spill from Catherine's eyes as she raised her fist to awaken Kurt to a living nightmare…

_Inside Kurt's quarters_

BAM. BAM. BAM.

The incessant sound of knuckles upon timbers made Kurt groan as sleep left him like smoke on the wind. For a moment, he tried to muffle the sound with the wrinkled coat that served as a pillow, but to no avail. Kurt's head emerged from the silken sheets, his hair mussed and wild-looking, and he silently vowed to verbally thrash whoever happened to wake him at such an ungodly hour.

Thoughts of discipline vanished, however, when Catherine's voice assailed him from the other side of wall. "Kurt? Are you awake?"

If the captain hadn't been alert before, he certainly was now. Kurt made a futile attempt to tame his bed-head before swinging the door wide.

"Kitty?" he asked, rubbing his golden eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Aye, there be plenty o' trouble in store for ye, _Cap'n_," Terrence said mockingly as he emerged into the lamplight.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kurt made no attempt to hide his anger. "I thought Summers had relieved you."

" 'E was goin' to, but I decided to relieve _him _instead," Terrence laughed, and his accomplices formed a circle of drawn blades around the _Sally Anne_'s master. "An' then I thought, why not relieve Labeau an' the rest o' yer little gang, eh?"

"_Where are my men, Terrence?"_ Kurt snarled._ "What is going on here?"_

Terrence made a show of looking surprise. "Why, they're just takin' a nice nap in the brig," he said. "Ain't it obvious…_Cap'n_? I'm succeeding you."

"BLAGGARD!" Kurt roared, as the realization of the man's treachery dawned upon him. His warped hand flashed to his belt, but Terrence swiftly pricked the skin under Catherine's neck, so the tiny rivulet of blood could prove that he was in control.

"Ye will surrender this ship to me," the carpenter said, his voice laden with years of pent-up anger. "_Or she dies."_

Kurt's sword made a clatter as it dropped to the deck.

"Good, but something's missin'," Terrence chortled. "Say, 'aye, Captain'."

Kurt stared balefully at him until the mutineer pulled a pistol from his belt, pressing the metal barrel against Catherine's skull. "DO IT!"

The words sounded as though they'd been dragged up Kurt's throat on a fishing line. "Aye, Captain," he grated.

"That'll do fer now, I suppose," Terrence said, but his eyes narrowed as Kurt began to stand. "Uh, uh, u-u-h," the carpenter chided. "Ye're supposed to _bow _in the presence of yer Cap'n, ye know. Mebbe ye need a little tutorial on proper shipboard etiquette."

With a smile of absolute enjoyment on his face, Terrence drew a second pistol and shot him.

A/N: I know what you're thinking: "That Quill is a terrible, horrible person to leave us hanging like that!" Well…YOU'RE RIGHT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But seriously, don't fret too much: the next chapter will be up tomorrow or Sunday! And as long as I'm writing, I will admit that this _was_ another short installment, but I needed to crank it out before the _real _fun can begin! ^^ What will happen to Kurt? Will he survive his wounds and take back his beloved vessel? And what will become of Catherine and the loyal officers, Summers, Drake, McCoy and Labeau? Is there _any_ way to stop the plans of the evil Mr. Terrence? Find out in coming chapters! Finally, as always, PLEASE REVIEW! I welcome any and all feedback from my readers! If YOU have any ideas or suggestions, I would _love _to hear them!

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	13. Chapter 13

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 13: Captain Terrence

The dawn shone as red as freshly spilled blood the morning after Mr. Terrence's treachery. The _Sally Anne _rode at anchor, her sails furled, and creak of her timbers made it seem as the pirate ship itself was distressed at having a new master. She bucked and rode on the waves, a willful stallion against its rider, but Mr. Terrence was hardly concerned with a ship's feelings.

That was a fundamental difference between Kurt and Terrence. Kurt thought of the _Sally Anne _as a person, a lady, rather than a mere seagoing vessel. The blue-furred mutant would go to any lengths to protect the ship that had given him a life on the high seas.

Terrence, on the other hand, looked at the _Sally Anne _as nothing more than a compilation of wood, pitch, sails and rigging. While Kurt described the ship in loving details, like a well-acquainted lover, Terrence's description of the _Sally Anne _would be like describing a lady with the barest details; as if she had two arms, a torso, two legs, and a head thrown in for the accounting. Terrence, to the revulsion of the ship's rightful captain, looked at the _Sally Anne _as little more than a way to get from point A to point B.

Now the victorious mutineer glared roundly at all the staunch pirates who'd accumulated on the deck. This was to let them know who was in charge now, and Terrence's eyes, made yellow by years of alcoholism, settled on some indistinct point on the horizon.

"Ye've all 'eard that there's been a change in management, mos' likely," he began. "_I'm _Cap'n o' this ship now, an' if any o' ye feel uncomfortable wid that, then ye're free to leave."

The meaning of that last statement was clear. The _Sally Anne _was anchored in deep, shark-infested waters, and the implied threat was that anyone who disagreed with Terrence's claim to Captaincy would be thrown overboard.

The silence was all the assurance Terrence needed. He saw the way his crew, _his _crew, looked down rather than meet his gaze. "Right, then," the carpenter continued, gesturing toward a table where some of his cronies sat. "Then if yer all wid me, come sign _my _Articles. Move lively, now!" Terrence attempted to make his normally growling voice more threatening, but failed.

Though their lives depended on it, many of the crew who went forward and pledged loyalty to Terrence were ashamed. Kurt, after all, had always been a good and fair Captain, and the mutant had always filled the _Sally Anne's _hold with plunder. They had all made their fortunes under Wagner's leadership, and so it was with great reluctance that the grizzled and scarred seamen made their mark on a piece of paper.

Terrence, of course, had no idea of any of this. Being self-centered by nature, it was inconceivable to him that others did not share his lofty view of his luminous self.

The mutineer smiled smugly. If the shot he'd inflicted on Wagner hadn't killed him, he'd certainly be in a lot of pain right about now. Terrence had taken special pleasure in throwing his former captain into a brig not far from the girl's, close enough to see each other but far enough away to prevent any communication. It was a torture Terrence was proud of, and he made a mental note to stop by and torment Kurt later if the freak was still breathing.

A smirk crossed Terrence's face. He'd have some fun with the girl, once he'd tired of torturing Wagner. He'd make her watch Kurt being thrown overboard with chain shot tied around his ankles, and then Miss Pryde would be shared out among the entire crew. After all, it wasn't every day that such a fine thing came aboard the _Sally Anne_: Catherine was a wine to be savored and rolled along the palate before being swallowed.

Wagner's officer's had fared little better than their now-defunct captain. Labeau, in particular, had tried to make a homemade bomb to blast open the cell door and make an escape. Terrence had immediately cut off the officers' rations (not that he was planning on feeding them anyway), and ordered the officers to be flogged in front of all the men. Labeau would be treated extra harshly, as an example to anyone who thought of defying their Captain.

Terrence gestured grandly toward the gangway that led below deck. "Bring up the prisoners!"

A mighty cheer erupted from his supporters, and Summers, Drake, Labeau and the gentle McCoy were jostled and dragged along the planking. A swift kick forced them to kneel, but Summers attempted to stand anyway.

Terrence struck him across the face, and Summers defiantly spat blood onto the mutineer's shoes.

The new captain snarled, and signaled two of his men. The villains grabbed the arms of the young Mr. Drake, and tied him to the mast after ripping his shirt open. Drake's eyes were frightened, and he looked at Summers pleadingly.

This did not escape the notice of Terrence, and a grin of pure malice split his face as a _very _creative idea burst into his sadistic brain. The cat-o-nine tails made a sharp crack as Terrence tested it almost experimentally, and he turned sharply on his heel. Summers looked away, expecting the blow-

-But was surprised when Terrence instead forced the whip into his callused palms. The mutineer's voice was jovial. "C'mon now, Mr. Summers, go to it!"

Horror crossed the other man's face as the nature of his punishment dawned upon him. Terrence saw this, and exulted in it. "We don't 'ave all day, ye know," he said with a trace of warning, and the villain's hand strayed to the pistol in his belt. "I'd be gettin' a move on if'n I was ye."

Summers glanced down at the foul instrument in his fingers, and bile threatened to rush up his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was whip his friends, but then again, Terrence would most likely kill them all if he refused. If they were alive, then there was still a chance to save Kurt and Miss Pryde.

_Where there's life, there's hope,_ Summers thought grimly, and Mr. Drake sobbed as he approached the bared skin of the young lad's back.

The loyal first mate almost felt his heart explode under a torrent of arrows barbed with guilt. Drake was still a boy in many ways, Summers thought, and the notion only increased his hatred of Terrence, himself, and what he was about to do.

Summers stepped within earshot of Drake. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Drake's eyes were glazed. "Just…get it over with…"

_CRACK!_

William Drake bit his lip to keep from screaming as the knotted cords ripped into his flesh.

_CRACK!_

Tears spilled down Summers' face as he rained another blow upon his good friend. The instrument of torture was now stained with scarlet.

_CRACK!_

An almost inaudible sob escaped Summers' lips, and he knew in his heart that Drake was only the first in line…

_CRACK!_

The timbers of the _Sally Anne _echoed to the sound of the lash.

_Meanwhile…_

To say that Catherine Pryde was scared would be an understatement of such an order and magnitude that it defied comprehension. She had _never _been this utterly terrified before, fearing for her very life among a den of lions who were just waiting for a chance at her. The lecherous look in Terrence's eyes made her want to vomit, but mere nausea held not a candle to her worry for Kurt. The horror Catherine had felt at seeing him drop, bleeding profusely, had made her want to curl up and die inside. She had no idea if the furry Captain she'd grown so fond of was even still alive, and _not knowing_ was the biggest torture of all.

Catherine was hungry, and thirsty too. Terrence had decided not to feed her for a few days, so as to break her to his will.

He had no way of knowing that Miss Pryde would happily starve to death rather than spend a minute in his company.

And thus Catherine had pocket a dagger up her sleeve when Terrence wasn't looking.

Just in case…

_Much later_

A tattooed pirate with golden hoops in each ear laughed callously as the stunned and disoriented officers were thrown back into the dank and reeking brig. Each of them was afire with pain, and the bilgewater that ran across the timbers made the wounds on their backs scream with agonized fire.

Summers clenched his teeth against the pain and remorse, and Drake made a sobbing sound as he lay where he fell.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt's old friend whispered. "There was no other way…"

Labeau tried to straighten, but doubled over with a gasp. "We know, _monsieur,_" he said, grinning wryly. "At least ve are alive for now, _oui?_"

Summers looked away. "I…" Words failed to express his grief and regret over the action he'd been forced to commit. Then Drake clasped his hand, in the manner that all hearties reassured each other.

"We know why you did what you did," Drake spoke for them all. "And we will not hold it against you. It was the only way to buy the Captain some time."

McCoy tried to polish his tiny round spectacles, but gave up as the glasses were about to fall apart anyway. "Wagner might be safe for now," the giant agreed. "But if we fail to escape again, Terrence will not be so merciful. He will kill us and the Captain, and Miss Pryde…"

The four pirates shuddered as one. The notion did not even bear thinking about.

But from his position in the wettest cell aboard, it was _all _that Kurt Wagner could think about. The very idea of that scumbag Terrence getting his hands on poor, sweet Catherine made the blood boil in his veins.

Kurt laughed bitterly to himself. The whole mutiny had been unnecessary: a pirate crew could simply vote out their captain if the majority ruled. He'd even mentioned this to Terrence as the traitor had locked him in here.

"Aye," the carpenter had said with a wink. "But if'n I put this here action to a vote, the men'll decide in _yer _favor. This way, I'm certain to win. An' besides," Terrence had glowered. "Why win wid votes or words what ye can win wid blood? 'Tis that soft attitude o' yourn that lost ye this ship, Wagner!

"Take that girl, fer instance," he'd continued. "Ye shoulda let us all 'ave our turn wid 'er, 'stead o' treatin' her like a guest rather than a pris'ner! That, by the by, is a situation I intend ter correct when I'm through wid you."

"YOU BASTARD!" Kurt had lunged at his hated foe, but Terrence had simply laughed before banging the door shut Kurt's face.

"You lose, Wagner," the mutineer had hissed with a serpentine smile.

Kurt's mind snapped back to the present. He needed to keep his head clear if he was to take his ship back. And to do that, Kurt first needed to re-establish communication with his men.

This presented a problem, as the four loyal officers had purposely been placed out of earshot.

The heavy clomp of sea boots down the gangway made Kurt sigh to himself. It was most likely Terrence, come to gloat again, he knew. Kurt's face twisted with hate-

But he was surprised when the visitor was not Terrence at all. It was, instead, a member of the crew whose face Kurt recognized but whose name escaped him.

The tar bore a battered earthenware plate with half a loaf of bread and a glass of water upon it.

"Keen to keep me alive, are you?" Kurt asked scathingly.

The other man looked furtively from left to right, and handed Kurt a slip of paper. "I couldn't let any o' Terrence's men see me give ye this," he whispered. "I got ter be about me duties, but I'll be back later, Cap'n."

The pirate disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived, and a thoroughly bemused Kurt opened the piece of parchment in his furry fingers.

His eyes widened as he saw its contents. The first was a note, written in an untidy scrawl:

_Many of the men remain loyal to you._

_We will try to help you in whatever way we can._

_Included is a tool to use for your escape._

This was followed by a list of names…

…As well as a piece of greased wire, which Kurt could use to pick the lock on his cell.

The mutant's face split into a predatory grin…

A/N: Uh, oh! Looks like Mr. Terrence is in for a world of trouble! I promised you all a longer chapter this time around (over 2,000 words XD), and I _always _deliver on my promises to my readers! I have really been _floored _by how everyone is enjoying the story so far, and it gives me great joy to present you with another installment as I thank you all for your continued readership and support! ^^ And PLEASE REVIEW! If any of you out there have ideas or suggestions or constructive criticism on how I can make this story more enjoyable for _you _to read, LET ME KNOW ^^

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	14. Chapter 14

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 14: Captain vs. Captain

Mr. Summers lay sprawled almost languidly on the wall of his cell. The iron bars were rusty and encrusted with filth, and his stomach growled cavernously in spite of his attempt at stoicism.

Mr. Drake, still nursing his wounds from earlier, shook his head. "Don't even go thinking about food, mate. Terrence ain't very concerned about our welfare, you know."

"Aye," McCoy said, his voice rumbling with anger. "But mopin' won't go about solving this problem, will it? We need a plan, and fast; for all we know, Miss Pryde may already be dead."

"Exactly, Mr. McCoy," Kurt said, seeming to materialize in front of the barred door. The thin, flexible piece of metal that the anonymous crewman had given him clinked in the padlock's gears before it gave way with a telltale _click._

The rightful Captain of the _Sally Anne_ held a finger to his lips. "Be quiet, and move lively," he whispered, drawing his sword while beckoning his loyal mates to freedom. "McCoy, you and Drake go and rescue Catherine. Labeau, Summers and I will cause a distraction."

" 'Ow deed you ezcape vrom your cell, _Capitaine_?" Labeau couldn't help asking.

Kurt arched a blue eyebrow. "It would seem that not everyone aboard is satisfied with Terrence's tenure as Captain," he answered. "It was they who helped arrange my escape, and I have already conspired with them to take back _my _ship. Now go!" he added urgently. "Even if I am slain, make sure Catherine gets to safety!"

McCoy nodded. "Aye, sir," the giant said, before he and Drake stole off down the corridor.

Kurt felt the edge of his cutlass experimentally, and his grin resembled a shark that had spotted a bare behind. "I do believe it is time for Mr. Terrence to step down from his post, wouldn't you say?"

Labeau hefted a cast-iron grenadoe and glanced at his captain hopefully. "I get to make ze beeg boom?"

"Of course," Kurt spread his arms magnanimously. "But try not to damage my lady _too _much, okay?"

"_Oui."_

"Then let us be off," the mutant said, and his eyes turned hard. "I have a score to settle…"

_Meanwhile…_

McCoy and the young Mr. Drake dared to peek out from behind the rotund wooden barrel that had given them sanctuary from being spotted. A pirate toting a blunderbuss passed them by not two feet away, and Drake's tone was nervous as he whispered frantically, "How do we know who's on _our _side? The Cap'n never said anything!"

"I have a good idea which of our old mates would choose to follow Terrence," McCoy murmured back. "Just follow my lead," he added, picking up a massive bung hammer.

The unfortunate mutineer who'd just walked past the pair died instantly as the huge mallet crashed into the size of his head. McCoy grabbed the body and discreetly threw it overboard.

Drake stared in shock and more than a little awe at the normally gentle doctor. "Nice."

McCoy glanced at the weapon he'd chosen. "It was not difficult. That one never had any discipline at all. I rather like this thing," he added, glancing that hammer. "It has a nice weight about it."

"I think it's gonna come in handy," Drake replied, pointing. "Catherine's quarters are under heavy guard."

McCoy sniffed in distaste. "Terrence doesn't want Catherine to escape before he can have his way with her. The savage," he growled, and his eyes became hard as the giant tossed the bung hammer from hand to hand. "Stay here. This shouldn't take long…"

With a stealth that belied his bulk, McCoy slithered right up to a long-nosed fellow who happened to be describing in lurid detail how he would torture Summers and the rest. The tar didn't notice his assailant until it was too late. The remorseless iron hammer head snuffed out his life like a candle, and his fellows turned around to raise the alarm-

-Whereupon Mr. Drake met them as kindly as he could, jabbing them both with his dagger. The whole thing had taken less than a minute, and no one had heard a sound.

McCoy gestured backward. "Stay out here and keep watch," he ordered. "If anyone you don't know or trust happens to see you, kill them, and do it quickly. We do not want Terrence to know of our escape just yet."

Drake pressed a knuckle to his forehead in salute. "Aye, sir."

The good doctor had to lean forward considerably to get through the door frame, and this was all for the better as Catherine instinctively hurled an empty glass bottle at him. McCoy deftly caught the projectile and set it down gently, as the shattering noise would have blown their cover.

"McCoy?" Catherine's tone was glad, but confused. "I thought Terrence had…"

"Not yet," he replied grimly, "and not if the Captain kills him first."

"He's alive?" The young woman could not conceal her hopeful expression.

Inwardly, McCoy smirked. He was right after all: the two were indeed smitten with each other. "He lives, Miss Pryde," the doctor said. "But I think events here are about to take a turn for the worse, as a battle is imminent between those loyal to Terrence and those who pledged allegiance to Kurt. I have been ordered to take you somewhere where you will be safe."

Catherine snorted, as that strategy had worked _so _well in the fight against the _San Cristobal._ "And what should happen if I refuse?" she asked, her voice hard.

McCoy sighed. Kurt was going to _kill _him for this. "Fine," he said shortly, thrusting a dagger into her hand. "If you really want to help, see if you can do something with this blade."

Catherine nodded, and the dagger's tip seemed to glint with anticipation.

_Meanwhile…_

Kurt sighed with exasperation as he licked his fingers, pinching the fuse of Labeau's makeshift bomb and snuffing the spark out with a hiss. "Labeau," he said, making an effort to appear patient, "I already told you not to do that _yet._ A large explosion will wake Terrence, whom I am sure is snoring in my bunk, and bring swift death upon all of us. We _cannot _blow the element of surprise. Do you understand?"

"_Oui,_ _monsieur,"_ Labeau sighed. "Eez just…my nature."

"Save it for the battle ahead," Kurt replied, but his attention was diverted as someone came around the corner. His hand flashed to the hilt of his blade-

-And Mr. Drake gasped as the cold steel kissed the flesh beneath his chin. " 'Tis only me, Cap'n."

"Sorry," Kurt said, and meant it. "Where is Catherine? Is she safe?"

"I should think so," an unmistakably feminine voice replied. "And I am glad to see that you are unharmed, as well."

In a moment completely unsuitable for one in his lofty position, Kurt dropped any semblance of dignity and lunged forward, his strong arms latching onto Catherine and pulling her into a firm hug. She noticed that he was trembling, as if trying to reassure himself of her safety, and the young lady's eyes widened as Kurt ran his fingers almost tenderly through her hair.

Catherine felt almost drunk. Her knees quaked at the roughness of Kurt's callused hands, and the smell of him, a scent of timber, pitch, and rum, made her senses swim. The warped fingers that had once so reviled her now made her skin tingle, and Catherine was actually shocked by how sincere Kurt seemed in the admission he made.

Kurt's voice was hot in her ear. "I thought you were dead," he admitted huskily.

Catherine was momentarily deprived of speech, as the tornado of emotions inside her, coupled with the utter suddenness of Kurt's actions, made her vocal processes go temporarily offline.

McCoy coughed discreetly, and the two jumped apart like startled rabbits. "Touching, sir," he said, "but wouldn't now be a good time to take back your vessel."

"A splendid idea," Kurt replied, and he now seemed much more like the debonair swashbuckler Catherine remembered. He reached to a silver whistle around his neck, snapping the twine on which it hung.

The shrill notes of the Captain's summons was heard through ever timber and planking of the _Sally Anne._

"To me, my hearties!" he roared. "WE MOVE _NOW!_"

The effect of Kurt's actions was like driving the toe of a boot into an anthill.

The deck came alive with pirates, both loyal men and mutineers, and Kurt seemed almost gleeful to wreak his vengeance on those who'd betrayed him. The edge of his sword shone in the early sunlight of that decisive morning, and the shouts and battle cries could be clearly heard across the blue waters.

"Kurt for Cap'n!"

"Death to the weaklin's!"

"Mutinous scum!"

"Lily-livered softies!"

Drake ducked under a blow that would surely have taken his head clean off, and he used the recovery time for such a swing to his own advantage. Even as the other man's blade was still in a scything arc, Drake lunged in close and stabbed the man in the throat just above the chin, piercing through the jaw and into the brain. A fountain of blood shot from the narrow wound, and the man slumped to the deck in a growing pool of crimson.

Labeau seemed to have a pistol for every occasion: his body was adorned with single-, double-, and even triple-barreled firearms that clanked against each other. A sneering mutineer with a crescent-shaped scar on his cheek made as if to draw his own weapon, but Labeau, having years of experience with things that go boom, beat him to it. The traitor fumbled when the pistol's hammer snagged in his belt, and Labeau cackled as he shot him dead. With speed and precision, the gunner dropped the spent pistol and selected another one as two of Terrence's men closed in on him from both the front _and _from behind. Labeau wasn't worried, however: he merely pointed one pistol behind him and the other to the fore. Both weapons were discharged simultaneously, and the mutineers dropped before they'd even gotten close.

Even Catherine made a conspicuous effort to help her friends. She found the curved knife in her hand much to her liking, and there was no education like that learned on the job. The young woman's beauty worked in her favor, as her opponents were too busy gawking to put up a serious fight. This fate awaited one such man who charged, screaming like a banshee, but screeched to a halt as his hungry eye looked Catherine over.

His lust cost him his life. Catherine lurched forward and drove the dagger deep into his belly. "I am not as helpless as I appear," she told him as the light went out of his eyes.

McCoy was functioning as a human wrecking ball. The gigantic, square-shaped hammer he wielded was now encrusted with blood and hair, and his victims were rendered almost unrecognizable under the devastating impact. The doctor, so kindly in his bedside manner, now created a circular zone of death as the bodies piled up around him. A mutineer landed on McCoy's back, stabbing furiously with his blade, but the shallow cuts were more of a nuisance to the maddened doctor than anything else. A huge, hairy arm shot backward and gripped the man by his throat, and the mutineer's neck made a resounding _crack _as McCoy broke it effortlessly before tossing his slain foe aside. The body was thrown with such force that it collided with the several of the late pirate's comrades, who went down like ninepins under its weight with surprised yells. Again, McCoy swung that terrible hammer, caving in another man's skull before breaking a third enemy's spine in three places. This pirate, now a paraplegic, screamed in terror as McCoy gave a bestial snarl, grabbed him by the scalp and heaved him overboard with a resounding splash.

Summers moved with speed and agility, with a boarding axe in one hand and a pistol in the other. He neatly avoided a wild lunge that would have skewered him like a pig, and the crimson spattered Summers' face as the spike end of his hatchet was driven deep into the back of the man's neck, just below his skull. The first mate didn't even glance at his fallen foe; Summers turned around again like a bloody ballerina as he caught the curve of a sword in his axe's blade, ripping the weapon from his enemy's grasp and shooting him right in the face. Summers laughed, drunk with adrenaline, as three more closed in on him with drawn blades.

"Hey Labeau!" he called. "I could use something heavy over here!"

"But of course," Labeau giggled disturbingly as he lit a grendoes fuse. "Catch!"

The cast-iron pot of fiery death sailed through the air, and Summers neatly snatched it before it sailed overboard. A ferocious grin crossed his face as he looked at his enemies. "Cap'n Wagner says 'ello," Summers grinned, before lobbing the explosive into the mass of bodies.

The effect was instantaneous. A loud _bang _sent a withering storm of musket balls, shattered glass, and needle-like pieces of timber in all direction. The mutineers in the blast radius were shredded, decapitated, dismembered and mutilated with almost unspeakable carnage.

Though these men fought valiantly, it was the inevitable clash between the two captains that drew the most attention. Terrence locked eyes with Kurt as he was cutting a man's throat, and a nasal sneer crossed his face at the prospect of impaling Kurt on his sword. The mutant, for his part, burned with unrestrained rage at the cur who'd dared to forsake the pirate's code, tortured his officers and, most unforgivably of all, Terrence had tried to hurt Catherine.

In Kurt's mind, the death warrant came down on the traitor then and there. He raised his voice so Terrence could hear him. "Coward! Stand and face me, and answer for your crimes!"

Terrence laughed callously as he cut down every man in his path to close the distance. "The only crime I ever committed was not killin' ye right off, Wagner! DIE!"

"Ladies first," Kurt muttered, not even blinking as Terrence lunged.

_KRANG!_

Sparks flew as steel clashed upon steel, and Kurt growled wordlessly as he came almost face-to-face with his mortal enemy. The two blades formed a razor-sharp X as the two pirates strained back and forth, each seeking a means of breaking the other's hold.

Terrence grinned maniacally. "You'll die screamin', cur," he laughed. "I'll make ye watch what I do ter the girl afore I put ye out o' yer misery!"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Kurt's golden eyes danced with furious flames. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Terrence snorted as he landed a quick rabbit punch to his former captain's torso. Kurt gasped and doubled over, whereupon Terrence cleaved a long, deep cut down the length of his arm. Blood gushed from the laceration, and Kurt hissed in pain. He reached for his sword-

-But Terrence's boot came down cruelly on his fingers with an audible _crunch._ Kurt bellowed in surprise and shock, and the villainous pirate gave him a contemptuous kick before picking up the blade.

"Ye lose, Wagner," he said, smirking, as the first rays of the sun glanced over the horizon.

"Not yet, blaggard," Kurt replied. His thin, spaded tail lashed out from where he lay on the deck, and the extra appendage coiled around Terrence's leg like a striking snake.

For Kurt it was but the work of a moment, one swift pull!

Terrence was jerked clean off of his feet, and Kurt grabbed his stolen blade as it fell from the traitor's nerveless hand. The iron pommel slammed into Terrence's temple, knocking him out as cleanly as if Kurt were dousing a lamp.

It was this that clinched the battle. The starch went out of Terrence's men as they saw their leader fall. One by one, an eclectic assortment of knives, daggers, axes and swords clattered and clanged as the mutineers gave up the fight.

Summers, panting and drenched with sweat, appeared at Kurt's side. He glanced hatefully down at Terrence's fallen form. "Want me to kill 'im?"

"No," Kurt said. "That would be the easy way out. He doesn't deserve it, Summers. Terrence and the rest will be tried by their fellows once he regains consciousness."

Drake looked severely disappointed. "I was hopin' to see 'im swing," he said.

"Mayhap we still can," McCoy suggested as he lumbered into the circle around the fallen Terrence. The gore-stained hammer was still in his beefy palm. "Now let me see…"

McCoy rummaged in his coat for a moment, and would have looked quite scholarly if his face wasn't stained with blood. "Ah, here it is," he said, to no one in particular, retrieving a tiny vial from his pocket. "This should bring him around."

The doctor held the foul-smelling herbs under Terrence's nose, and the stench immediately roused him from his stupor.

"Where…am I?" he asked, disoriented.

"You're in the third circle of howling Hell," Kurt grated. "And you _will _be brought to account for your actions, Mr. Terrence, as will all of those who sided with you."

"A vote!" a desperate voice called out.

"Aye, let's vote on it!" another exclaimed.

Kurt's smile was bitter as he turned to those who'd fought for him. "Fair enough, mates. Who here votes to keep these marlplots on board? Who here would give them reprieve?"

Not a single hand was raised.

Kurt's breathing turned hoarse and heavy as he clenched his fist, and everyone present immediately took a step backward. Kurt's very body seemed to ooze menace and all-consuming anger, and it was at this moment that he truly looked like a devil. No one had _ever _seen their captain in such wrath before.

When he spoke, Kurt's tone was laden with such fury that it came out a harsh grate.

"Serve those morsels to the sharks, Summers," he snarled. "Every one of them. To the last of them. There is no room aboard _my _ship for betrayers."

Summers was surprised and not a little appalled at Kurt's brutal decision, but he dared not question it when the captain was like _this._ "Aye, sir. But what about Terrence?"

Kurt glanced down at his defeated foe, and the smile that crossed his face was vengefully deranged. "Take him aloft and lash him to the yardarm. Though our Terrence has not a single redeeming feature about him, he can at least furnish the sea gulls with a fine meal before he passes on."

Terrence, a coward at heart, glanced at all and sundry in a feeble plea for mercy. A sea of hard faces glared back at the mutinous carpenter.

Fear enveloped him.

A/N: Wow….that was pretty hardcore. XD Well, I thought I'd get one more chapter out before finals week, 'cause after that I will be taking my leave of the educational system to spend time with my family in this most joyous of seasons! I won't be updating as often while I am away for various Christmas-related reasons, so I wanted to resolve this string in the plot as soon as I could! And as always, PLEASE REVIEW! I would LOVE to hear any advice, suggestions or ideas on how I can make this story better!

On a far more personal note, I want to take a minute to wish you all the best for the holiday season. To Blanc Expression, ObsessedwithNightcrawler, pointyearsrule, AmuletSpade, Indigo-Night-Wisp, and all the rest, I extend both good tidings and my gratitude for your continued readership. May you all have a truly special experience during this magical time of year, my friends. I wish you all the contentment and merriment in the world.

Peace on Earth.

Goodwill to men.

And a very merry Christmas to each and every one of you.

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	15. Chapter 15

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 15: Fluff, Plain and Simple

Though Kurt Wagner was once again the undisputed master of the _Sally Anne_, the fight to reclaim his beloved vessel had taken its toll, largely in the form of the reeking, festering wound in Kurt's shoulder, where the lead musket ball had burrowed and torn its way into his flesh.

The wound obviously hadn't been seen to during Terrence's brief captaincy, and the reeking bilgewater that washed the _Sally Anne_'s lower decks had made the brig a veritable receptacle of pestilence. The filthy, fetid slime that had surrounded Kurt in his wounded state had had a devastating impact on a wound that was, in and of itself, a cause for concern.

The pain had been forgotten in the heat of the fight just hours before, and the adrenaline that had pumped through Kurt's body as he struck his opponent down had temporarily distracted him from his serious injury. Now, however, there were no men opposing him and no ships to sack, and so the hideous wound had come back to haunt Kurt with more wrath and fury than the angriest of spirits.

There was no sugar-coating it. The encrusted blood and pus that surrounded the swollen limb had the unmistakable stench of gangrene and death, and the odor made even the most hardened of Kurt's men head for the railing to escape its unbearable stink. Kurt could not move the entire left side of his body without his nerves screaming in protest, and so the valiant pirate had been confined to his cabin on Mr. McCoy's recommendation.

The huge doctor was a naturally kind and caring sort, but the hard, clinical side of his profession told him that Kurt could very well perish from his hurts. The remorseless piece of lead had hit home in the place where Kurt's arm and shoulder joined, making mobility nigh impossible. It was also, the physician reflected, an extremely small and difficult place to operate.

That would come first, he knew: the lead bullet had to be removed before the wound became any worse. Assuming the procedure went well, he would then have to work diligently to eradicate the infection. That was a difficult task aboard any ship, as sailing vessels were not known for their medical care, and the size and strength of the rot in Kurt's shoulder made the prospect of a full recovery even more dubious.

McCoy shuddered. If the musket ball could not be removed, then he would be forced to amputate Kurt's entire arm before a bleak situation got even worse. Amputations were a grim and bloody aspect of his trade, and McCoy had often been forced, in the heat of battle, to saw off arms and legs while his patients often had little more than a swallow of whiskey to ease the pain.

From his luxurious, pilfered sheets, Kurt grinned lopsidedly. "That bad, huh?"

"Well…" McCoy knew there was no point in hiding it. "Yes, it is. Even if I can extricate the projectile, I'm not sure if you'll ever regain full use of that arm, sir."

Kurt looked away. "Whoop-tee-doo," he said sarcastically. "I don't suppose you'd be decent enough to knock me out, first." The mutant's eyes were sad. "That bastard Terrence…maybe he had the last laugh, McCoy. How can I lead these men without an arm?"

"Don't go jumping to conclusions," McCoy scolded. "There's no sense in worrying about something that might not happen."

"True enough, I suppose," Kurt admitted, averting his eyes once more as the good doctor picked up a set of vicious-looking pincers. "This will hurt, won't it?"

McCoy nodded. "It will, sir. Just try to hold still, and I'll be done as soon as I can."

"Open the door, would you?" Kurt's face split into a grin.

McCoy was rather bemused by his captain's peculiar order, but he nonetheless complied. The elaborate piece of woodwork swung open-

-Just in time for the two to appreciate an agonized scream from somewhere in the rigging.

The voice was unmistakably that of Mr. Terrence, who even at that very moment was being eaten alive by ravenous sea birds.

"That makes me feel a lot better," Kurt said maliciously, and his grin remained even as the foul-looking instrument plunged into his flesh…

_Meanwhile…_

Catherine Pryde was worried, though to use such a clichéd term to describe her anxiety was an understatement of an unbelievable magnitude. So great was her concern that her stomach roiled and turned like a cauldron of boiling water, and the invisible weight that had settled on her shoulders seem to be slowly crushing her. Catherine's entire body trembled and shook with a heart-wrenching pain that she'd never known before.

Some part of her mind that had remained clear despite Catherine's distress idly wondered why she should be so concerned about the health and welfare of a man who'd kidnapped her and held her for ransom for over a month now.

Kurt Wagner was a scoundrel. He was a brigand, a thief who made his trade in plundering, ransacking and murder. He talked of pillaging and pilfering with an almost disturbingly casual air. Wagner was unrepentant of his crimes, and he made no secret of how much he thoroughly _enjoyed _being a pirate. The man's heart was likely as wooden as the _Sally Anne_'s timbers.

And yet…

Kurt had saved her on the beach that day, on that now-distant island where he'd beached his vessel. He'd willingly put himself in harm's way to protect Catherine, fed her well even though she _was _his prisoner, and the treatment Catherine got from his crew (Terrence and his ilk notwithstanding), was almost genial.

Before leaving Bristol, Catherine reflected, she'd only known of pirates from the newspapers and from the stories her father had told her. They'd seemed almost mythical , a threat so distant that it may as well not exist.

But they _were _real. These men, whom Kurt treated like family, were only a drop in a bucket compared to the _thousands _of pirates that now made the world's shipping lanes their playground. The Jolly Roger, not the Union Jack, ruled the waves.

Catherine's mind flashed back to her conversation with Kurt, on that clear, starry night where he'd "asked" her to have dinner with him. "Your countrymen made me what I am today," he'd said. "I grew to love money for the want of it."

She was ashamed to admit it, but Catherine knew that there was a kernel of truth in Kurt's words. Had she been a beggar or otherwise impoverished, piracy would have seemed an attractive offer to _her_, too.

The more she thought about it, the more Catherine realized what drove Kurt and so many others to sail under the black flag. The class system that determined one's life back in England meant nothing here on the _Sally Anne_, and Catherine found herself almost envious of the self-government these pirates enjoyed. Certainly her father had never let _her _decide anything for herself, being the stubborn old bull that he was. Catherine recalled that he'd paraded her in front of potential husbands like farmers bring their livestock to market, and her old anger at such heartlessness resurfaced with a vengeance.

All of these factors added confusion to the storm of feelings raging within her. There was good and there was evil, but the way these pirates behaved made it difficult to place them in either category. These brigands, hated the world over, had taught her to see that not all issues were black and white; if anything, they seemed to open Catherine's eyes to the gray that stood in between. Kurt, for example, had been almost sadistic in the punishment he'd assigned Terrence, and yet he went out of his way to ensure that Catherine never suffered so much as a scratch. Kurt killed and maimed without a second thought, but he was also so…_tender _at times.

Catherine glanced downward, and her palms seemed to stare back at her. There was blood on those fingers, she knew: the young lady, raised in such privilege, had killed two men since coming aboard the _Sally Anne_. In some unexplained way, Kurt and his band of renegades were changing both the way Catherine looked at the world and the person she _was._

For the first time, Catherine appreciated a fresh gust of wind, laden with the ocean's salty tang. She came to rise and fall asleep to the comfortingly familiar toll of the ship's bell, and the nautical lingo Kurt used when ordering his men about was now perfectly understandable.

All of this threatened to overwhelm the young woman as she endured the agonizing wait for a prognosis on Kurt's health. Though she knew not why, the very _idea _of Kurt's demise made bile threaten to spill from Catherine's mouth. The way he flashed that roguish grin, his coarse yet flowery mode of speech, and Kurt's sharp wit all made the pirate strangely endearing despite his admittedly freakish appearance. The sparse vest that Kurt wore over his shoulders advertised the hard muscles on his chest while those peculiar golden eyes glinted in Kurt's handsome, rugged and weather-beaten face. Just being _near _him made Catherine all…_tingly._

And then there was the hug that Kurt had rather spontaneously given her upon finding out she was safe. Did he _really _care _that _much? Lying was part of his chosen trade, but Kurt had certainly seemed sincere enough when he'd drawn her close to him. The way his hands had trembled implied that Kurt needed to physically reassure himself that Catherine was still among the living. Her cheeks blushed at the thought of how her knees had quaked as Kurt had pulled her close to his solid build, and the smell of rum and sweat that hung about him had made Catherine's vision swim while her mind had shut down.

She'd _never _admit it to anyone but herself, but Catherine had felt safe and secure, wrapped in those strong yet tender arms. She had, at that particular moment, earnestly believed that nothing could hurt her as long as Kurt held her like that. The overall experience was not at all unpleasant, and the man Catherine had once loathed with every fiber of her being now dominated her waking thoughts.

The way Kurt's eyes had lit up when he saw her… This was certainly not the way Catherine had expected most pirates to act.

Then again, Kurt was _not _most pirates. Neither were Summers, McCoy, or Labeau, for that matter.

She moaned softly and held her head in her hands. How tragic it would be, for Kurt to die so soon after taking back his ship! Catherine _hated _the feeling of knowing that Kurt's life was at risk and she could do _nothing _to help!

It was a miserable and confused young woman who sat dispiritedly on the _Sally Anne_'s deck that day.

"Troubled, miss?" The voice of Mr. Summers made Catherine flinch slightly.

"I apologize," she said. "You startled me a bit."

"Aye, but 'twas not my intention," Summers said. "What's on your mind, eh?" he asked, lifting a hand to stifle her protest. "Don't go telling me that all's well with you, Mistress Pryde. Lying is a subject you have yet to master."

Catherine knew there was no point in arguing. "I am worried for Kurt," she admitted, both to Summers and to herself. "And I find myself questioning everything I have been taught."

"I do believe he's rubbed off on you," Summers replied jovially.

"He has," Catherine replied. "But in a way, I wish he hadn't."

"How's that?"

Catherine sighed. "Everything was so much simpler before he came along, Summers. I always thought that if someone stole bread, for example, then the act was wrong. It was easy to figure out. But suppose that fellow stole because he was starving, or he had a family to feed? Is he still in the wrong? Or is he justified? I…don't know what to believe anymore," she finished lamely.

Summers nodded. "That be true miss. And that there is the reason that the world hates and fears us."

"Because you steal?"

"Well, that," Summers conceded. "But also because we bring to light that which no one else wants to see. No one back in England or Spain or France want to admit that everything isn't perfect just the way it is, and yet we _make _them see what is wrong with the world. We _force _others to question the way things are. Deep down, everyone in Parliament, even the King himself, know damn well that the black hoist was born from _their _greed and oppression. But I'm afraid that many folks be opposed to change, Miss Pryde," he finished quietly.

Catherine nodded. "I see."

"Also," he added, "I came out here to tell you that McCoy's done workin' on the Captain's arm. Wants to see you, he does," Summer's tone was sly. "I'd imagine that that hole in 'is arm be painin' 'im somethin' awful."

"It is," McCoy lumbered up behind them. "And I swear, I have _never _heard such whining in my entire life. I've had _cabin boys _who were more stoic patients! He is _such _a baby sometimes, do you know that? I should ask him to increase my share just for having to listen to his caterwauling. Oh, yes," he added sarcastically. "The big, tough pirate! My arse he is!"

With a roll of his eyes, McCoy stalked off to his sickbay.

Catherine giggled. "His bedside manner is _severely _lacking."

"Not really," Summers grinned back. "It's just his way of showing his relief that the Cap'n ain't dead."

"Then why not tell him so?"

The pirate shrugged as he gently steered her to Kurt's cabin. "Professionalism, I suppose," he said, before disappearing below deck.

Catherine sighed quietly to herself, and opened the door quietly in case Kurt was sleeping.

He wasn't. The captain of the _Sally Anne_ lay with his blue head propped up on a mountain of fine pillows, and the bleariness of his eyes was a testament to the drugs McCoy had given him. The effect of the herbs was not unlike morphine, but this was always in such short supply that the doctor had only had enough to ease Kurt's pain _after _the musket ball had been removed from his shoulder.

The shoulder in question looked awful. The linen bandages were stained with a dark maroon that was rapidly turning to a rusty brown, and the fur around the afflicted area was matted with blood and foul liquids borne of bacterial infestation.

Kurt's face was drawn, and his skin looked like it had been stretched thinly over his skull. His normally healthy blue pallor had been replaced with a sick-looking pale shade, and Catherine's eyes widened at the sight of him in such a wretched state.

Kurt's catlike pupils swayed in her direction, and the raspy voice that issued from between his fangs was slurred.

"Catherine…"

A/N: Hey, guys! I'm back! ^^ I promised I would be! I wanted to get a little more fluff in before the plotline with Logan winds down, and it will be winding down _fast!_ I also want address some inquiries that I have received regarding posting pictures or drawings of my characters on Deviantart. By all means, be my guest! ^^ I was both surprised and very flattered that you guys have been enjoying my story so, and therefore I present to you this next installment. :D The next chapter will be up either Friday or over the weekend, so the wait shouldn't be _that _bad. Coming up: As our story begins its final act, the fearsome pirate hunter _finally _catches up with Kurt and his men…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	16. Chapter 16

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 16: Logan Closes In!

_The open ocean, several days ago…_

The pirate spat and gagged on saltwater and brine as he thrashed in the roiling deeps. All bravado and valor had deserted him, this man who was the last survivor of Mr. Terrence's mutinous crew. A piece of driftwood had been his salvation the day Kurt Wagner had ordered all of his hearties thrown overboard, and after what seemed like an eternity at the mercy of the wind and tides, he was almost convinced that the sleek brigantine bearing down upon him was nothing more than yet another optical illusion borne of exhaustion and dehydration.

Convinced he was, until his head hit the timbers of the _Predator_'s lower deck with an almost comical-sounding _bonk_.

Wild hope flared inside the castaway, and he forced his dry and cracked mouth into action.

"'Elp! 'Elp me, mates!" he shouted. "'Ave pity on a poor seafarer!"

A knotted line was abruptly thrown into the water beside him, and the mutineer's hands grabbed onto it for all he was worth. Slowly, ever so slowly, his tired body was dragged from the briny deeps.

The pirate's relief was quickly changed into numbing terror. Even as he flopped like a fish onto the deck, Captain Logan Howlett and his men fenced him in with a circle of wickedly gleaming blades.

Logan gently fingered a small, saw-bladed dagger as he cornered his prey. "So tell me, _pirate,_" he growled. "'Ow does one go about findin' the _Sally Anne_?"

_Now…_

Kurt's tongue felt like a baked sandal in his mouth, made dry and coarse by smothered screams during Mr. McCoy's operation. Despite his vocal shortcomings, he fought to work his mouth as the lovely Miss Pryde stepped in the doorway.

"Catherine…"

Kurt's hoarse tone made it seem like the name, in and of itself, was a magic spell that could wipe away all of his problems. And to him, it may as well have been. Kurt had _never _felt like this about anyone before. The emotions Catherine created in him were exciting, strange and terrifying at the same time: like how he adored the way she would brush her bangs out of her eyes or the laughter like the tinkling of a crystal bell. In his semi-delirious state, Kurt had to wonder if this was indeed what love felt like.

For her part, Catherine felt joy was over her in a wondrous tide, and a huge smile crossed her face as her feet crossed the floor. With speed borne of desperate relief, Catherine closed the distance and hugged Kurt fiercely around the neck. It was an action that, just weeks before, she would not have _dared _contemplate; indeed, the notion of just being _around _Kurt would have nauseated her. But a lot had changed in that time, for both Catherine and the pirate captain who'd come to be the center of her world, and so it was with utter abandonment of common sense that Catherine sobbed almost inaudibly into Kurt's chest.

He gasped, both from surprise and from the fact that Catherine had squeezed his wounded arm. "Catherine…that…hurts…" he groaned.

She released him promptly, and a blush of the deepest crimson spread over her cheeks. "Sorry," Catherine muttered. "I was just…glad to see that you are unharmed."

"Me too," Kurt grinned lopsidedly. "How's everything up on deck?"

"Summers is filling in for you," Catherine replied. "And Mr. McCoy is cautiously optimistic about your arm."

"Good," Kurt was obviously relieved. "This _is _my pillaging arm, after all. I do believe that I will need it for a while yet."

Catherine nodded before continuing. "The doctor also said that if you even _think _about getting out of bed without his say-so, he was going to throw a pail of saltwater on you."

"Is that so?" Amusement danced in Kurt's eyes.

"Mm-hm."

"Sounds like McCoy, all right," Kurt shrugged cheerfully.

"What sounds like me?" The aforementioned physician scowled clinically as he ducked to get in the doorway. "Do you need more medicine, Captain?"

"I would rather be keelhauled than stomach that poison again," Kurt winked cheekily before arching an eyebrow. "But you will be glad to know that I haven't moved from this very spot, so throwing that bucket of water on me will be quite unnecessary."

McCoy flushed. "I said no such thing, sir."

"Perhaps," Kurt's face split into a wicked grin. "But even so…Summers!" he called suddenly. "I'd have a word with you!"

The first mate appeared almost instantly. "Aye, sir?"

"Take Mr. McCoy outside," Kurt instructed, "and throw a pail of water on him."

Summers looked confused. "Cap'n?"

"You heard me," Kurt said with mock severity. "Mayhap this will teach the good doctor not to threaten his captain."

McCoy glowered at him, but said nothing as Summers took him by the arm. "C'mon, ol' boy," he said, with a look of utmost enjoyment on his face. "Captain's orders, doncha know!"

Kurt dramatically cupped a furry hand to his ear. First nothing, then…

_SPLOOOSH!_

"JUST YOU WAIT 'TILL YOU'RE IN MY SICKBAY AGAIN, SUMMERS!" McCoy howled. "I'LL POKE OUT YOUR OTHER EYE AND GIVE YOU A MATCHING SET!"

Catherine giggled. "What a curmudgeon!"

"Oh, posh," Kurt snorted. "He knows it's all in good fun."

A sopping wet McCoy lumbered back into Kurt's luxurious cabin, but his playful outrage was replaced with grim worry.

"What's all this then, McCoy?" Kurt asked, still enjoying his game. "Come back for more, have you?"

"Nay, sir," the doctor replied, shaking his great head as he did so. "A ship's been spotted."

"And what manner of ship be this?" Kurt inquired, bolting upright in his bed.

"I believe it to be a brigantine," McCoy said. "She has between twelve and eighteen guns, two-masted and ship-rigged."

"Colors?"

"'Tis curious, sir," McCoy scratched his head. "She's waving a black flag…but with no device upon it."

Less than a league away, Logan Howlett lowered his spyglass and sighed in satisfaction.

"_Finally…_"

A/N: Yes, I know it's another filler chapter, but I needed to get this one out of the way before the final battle between Kurt and Logan takes place. But fear not, for the _Sally Anne _will meet its match in Logan's _Predator_! In the final chapter and epilogue, Kurt and Logan will clash in an epic battle on the high seas, but the inevitable fight may not go as you all envision! Will Captain Wagner be able to prevail in his weakened state? Will Lawrence get his bride at last? And who will not survive the story's ending? The final chapter of "Devil of the Sea" will be the toughest fight of Wagner's piratical career!

And this time, it's winner take all…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


	17. Chapter 17

Devil of the Sea

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 17: Endgame

Kurt sat upright in his bed sheets, worry and anxiety creasing his blue, furry face. His tone was strained, and he grimaced as he unintentionally put weight on his wounded arm.

"A black hoist, you said?" the captain asked McCoy.

"Aye, sir," the doctor replied. "And she's closing in on us at a timely clip."

Kurt nodded shortly as he strapped on his sword. "Best tell Labeau to ready the guns," he ordered. "No sense in being unprepared, after all."

A sudden explosion put an end to any doubts about the mysterious ship's intentions.

_BOOM!_

"CANNON FIRE!" Kurt shouted, grabbing Catherine and yanking her to the floorboards. "GET DOWN!"

A whizzing cannon shot exploded through the wall of Kurt's cabin, overturning his bed and demolishing the adjoining wall. The full brunt of the _Predator's _armament was felt as the deadly projectiles hit home; the mainsail was riddled with holes torn by screaming iron, and the mast cracked ominously under the strain of impact. The _Sally Anne_ lurched in the water, as if Old Nick himself were trying to pull her beneath the watery depths, and men were torn limb from limb with the force of the blast. Her timbers groaned and creaked in unison with the screams of her wounded crew. Several had been killed outright by the cannon shot, and others were hideously maimed by the horrid shrapnel that was sent up wherever the _Predator_'s guns hit home.

McCoy barely avoided being eviscerated by the shower of deadly splinters. "Orders, sir?" he asked frantically.

Kurt bolted upright, his arm still in a sling as he strapped on his sword. "Tell Labeau that I want a broadside primed _yesterday!_" he snarled, his tone viciously angry at being caught off-guard. "Bring her around! Hard a-port and luff the sails, if you please, Mr. McCoy!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" McCoy nodded, lumbering below deck. "You heard the Cap'n!" he shouted. "Break out the powder and shot! Run out the guns!"

The cabin door banged shut behind him as Kurt leapt onto the quarterdeck in all his glory. "Mr. Summers!" he called. "Bring us across her fore! We'll rake them without presenting a target!"

"Aye, aye!" Summers called back, before relaying Kurt's commands. "Haul on the sheets! Brace the foreyard and ready about!"

While Kurt's crew went about their duty in a frenzy borne of fear and anger, their captain's tail lashed behind him as raced to his beloved vessel's wheel. A shower of wood and glass shrapnel exploded just to his left as Kurt shoved the helmsman aside.

"Give me that!" he snapped, spinning the wooden tiller hard in his furry fingers. With her captain and crew energized by fear and adrenaline, the _Sally Anne _veritably flew in a sharp left curve, bringing her broadside to bear against the _Predator_'s bow. The hiss of the spray set up by the pirate ship as she wheeled gently could be audibly heard as the sleek pirate vessel readied her counterattack. The _Sally Anne_ was a deadly ballerina with the wind and waves for a stage, and she executed a graceful yet deadly minuet as she readied a performance of her own. Seven pieces of remorseless cannon jutted from her larboard battery, and the pyromaniac Mr. Labeau grinned disturbingly as he waited for his captain's order…

Back on the _Predator_'s quarterdeck, Logan Howlett's eyes widened in alarm as he realized what the _Sally Anne _was up to. The fast and maneuverable sloop had the edge in speed over his own vessel, and Kurt was intent on exploiting it. The _Predator _could not turn on a dime as she could, and now Logan was headed right into the teeth of the pirate ship's broadside cannon. Logan cursed softly under his breath as he dove to the timbers.

Kurt Wagner smiled viciously, and his tongue lolled about his fangs as he gave the order. "_FIRE!"_

Labeau brought the fuse to the touch-hole of the first cannon himself before covering his ears. "FIRE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

_KABOOOOOOM!_

One by one, the _Sally Anne'_s gun recoiled in their moorings with as the powder in their barrels thunderously ignited, and the air below deck reeked of the pungent odor of spent powder. The gun ports belched smoke and death as the _Sally Anne _went on the offensive, and the iron shot whistled and shrieked through the salty air before slamming home on the opposing vessel.

The _Predator_ shuddered ominously, as if racked by a massive cold, and several unlucky sailors were made airborne from the force of the impact. Two of the still-smoking cannon that had just fired on the pirate vessel were blown out of existence along with the teams manning them, and these sections of the larboard gun deck were reduced to blood-soaked slaughterhouses amidst torn and dismembered corpses.

But Logan was far from done. He stepped over a man with a jagged spar through his back, not allowing the grisly sight to interfere with the job at hand. The pirate hunter turned to one of his men who'd survived the _Sally Anne_'s retort. "Bring us two points to port, bub," he growled. "Hard a-lee and luff up the mainsail! Tell those lazy layabouts below deck that I want those cannon loaded and primed when I give the order!"

The tar, more terrified of his captain than the prospect of being torn limb from limb by a cannon ball, nodded shakily. "Aye, sir."

Logan gave a small smile. "Well played, mate," he muttered in the direction of the _Sally Anne_. "But this ain't over yet…"

Though he could not have known it, Kurt Wagner shared the exact same opinion. The pirate knew full well that the brigantine had the _Sally Anne _outgunned, but his lady had defeated vessels twice the _Predator_'s size with ease. It is worth noting again that her agility was her greatest strength, and now the two deadly vessels strove to outdo one another, each seeking to bring her cannon to bear without giving the other the same opportunity. It was almost a fencing match, with wood and pitch clashing instead of the foil, their thrusts and parries giving neither captain the advantage over his counterpart.

Labeau's voice, made raspy from the still-smoky air, called up from the bowels of the _Sally Anne_. "Ze guns are loaded und primed once more, _mon Capitaine!"_ he shouted. "Avaiting your command, _monsieur!"_

Kurt made a mental note to increase Labeau's share when this was over. A good gunner captain was worth his weight in gold. The wheel creaked in his palm, as familiar as the caress of a well-known lover, and Kurt's blood almost sang with the joy of battle as it surged through his veins.

The dangerous dance of the two great ships brought them ever closer together, and Kurt could feel his nerves begin to fray with impatience. His opponent, whoever he was, was a fine seaman. A motion of his palm brought Summers to his side.

"Sir?"

"See the helmsman there?" Kurt pointed to the indistinct shadow on the _Predator_'s quarterdeck.

"Aye."

"As soon as we're in range, I want you to pick up a musket and kill him," Kurt said. "That should give us the edge for another broadside before we board 'em and say hello."

_CRACK!_

Summers, having served Kurt for so long, had already left before his captain had finished speaking. The lead musket ball exploded from the firearm's wooden barrel as the loyal first mate made an impossible shot from an unheard-of distance. The deadly piece of lead flew true to Summers' aim: the unfortunate sailor manning the _Predator_'s wheel was dead before he even knew what had happened.

Kurt saw the tar slump over, and the _Predator _veered off course for just a second-

-But then Logan Howlett shoved the body aside and took the wheel. Instead of veering away, he swung the tiller hard and brought his vessel's broadside cannon to bear against Kurt's own. The pirate, seeing that his plan had been foiled, gave the order at the exact same moment his opponent did. Time seemed to stand still, and the two assembled crews faced each other in silence while armed with muskets, pistols, blunderbusses and all manner of weaponry.

Then the spell was broken as the two men's voices blended together in one terrible word.

"FIRE!"

_KRAKKKKKOOOOOOOOM!_

The iron monstrosities of the _Sally Anne _and the _Predator _pounded each other remorselessly as the two batteries unloaded their ammunition of death and destruction. Labeau clapped a hand to his ears once more as his beloved cannon sounded off on a lethal roll call, and the gun deck of the _Predator _erupted in a hail of shrieking iron and needle-like shrapnel. Men were torn apart, flying like rag dolls under the _Sally Anne_'s blow, and the _Predator'_s timbers were splashed with crimson as Labeau's men blasted away.

But the _Predator _struck a blow of its own. Its crew was as hardened as the pirates they hunted, and the gunners went about their duties with thoroughness and ease. The brigantine belched fire and smoke even as the _Sally Anne _struck, and Labeau cringed as the cannoneers on either side of him were blown out of existence with some well placed shots. The air reeked of torn flesh, blood and gunpowder, and the Frenchmen could hear the screams of the wounded as they crawled along the timbers before expiring.

Neither side gained the advantage in the open air, either. Even as the gunners blew each other to pieces, the salty breeze erupted in a hail of musket and small-arms fire. Kurt snarled to himself in anger and frustration, snatching a lit grenadoe from one of his men and leaping into the lower rigging so as to dangle by his tail. This actually made it so that Kurt hung low enough to reach one of the _Predator_'s gunports, and Kurt winked cheerily as he rolled the explosive inside. An instant later, the explosive disintegrated in a storm of razor-sharp metal and scorching brimstone, and the cannon's steady rate of fire abruptly vanished with the lives of its gunners.

With all the grace of a circus acrobat, Kurt leapt back on deck and drew a brace of pistols from his belt. He fired while barely aiming, gambling that with the cluster of men on the _Predator_'s deck, he'd be bound to hit something. Kurt gambled correctly, and two of Logan's mercenaries dropped to the timbers amidst a spray of blood. Lead whistled all around the _Sally Anne_'s captain as his foes tried desperately to hit him, but the Powers That Be had apparently bestowed their blessing upon Kurt. He wasn't even scratched.

Summers ducked to avoid a shot to the head before returning the favor. "What now, captain?"

"Prepare to repel boarders!" Kurt ordered. "Get some men aloft and strafe her deck, get as many of them as you can! Tell McCoy that I need him up on deck with that hammer of his, and get Labeau up here too! I think we'll be having company shortly, and I'll need all of you with me!"

"Aye, captain!"

Meanwhile, Logan Howlett held the _Predator_'s wheel with fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned pale. This pirate was certainly not a coward, he reflected. Most of them gave up when faced with a serious opponent. That was all for the better, he knew; it would make victory that much sweeter knowing it had been earned.

The infamous pirate hunter raised his voice, grabbing an iron grapple and whirling it around his head until it made the air whistle. _"Prepare to board!"_

Roaring and shouting, Logan Howlett's men swung across to the _Sally Anne…_

But on the pirate vessel's deck, Summers grinned lopsidedly before hefting his musket and pulling the trigger. As he did so, seven other sea rovers followed his lead, and the pirates fired a volley of lead into Logan's ranks in quick succession.

The effect was instantaneous. Logan grimaced as his men were raked by the pirates, and those hit lost their grip on their grapples and tumbled, wounded and dead, into the water. The Caribbean Sea, once sky-blue in color, now washed with crimson foam as the bodies of the dead and dying floated in the surf.

But Logan was undeterred. His heavy boots _clomped _as he landed on the _Sally Anne_'s deck, and his wickedly shining cutlass rasped from his sheath as the two sides clashed.

The pirate hunter deflected a slash to the chest, breaking his opponent's nose with his elbow before running him through. A spray of crimson spouted from the man's lips as Logan pulled his sword free, and the mercenary leaped backward to avoid blow that would have sent his innards spilling onto the deck. Logan, who never believed in fighting fair, lashed out with his foot and kicked his foe in the crotch; the unfortunate man uttered a gasping whine before a swipe from Logan's blade ended his problems forever. The pirate hunter had killed two men in less than a minute, but he was far from done: a pirate hefted a pistol at him, but Logan dove to the side so that the shot missed and hit another pirate instead. The other man dropped the spent firearm so as to draw his sword, but Logan lunged and shoved his dagger through the pirate's jaw and into his brain. Blood spilled freely from the wound, but Logan did not waste any time noticing, as still another tried to knock Logan's block off with a hatchet. But Logan, a fearsome foe to all, caught the curve of the axe with the hilt of his sword, twisting it away and stabbing the man in the belly.

Kurt, in true pirate fashion, fought as well as the best of them despite his bum arm. The agonizing pain he felt with each swing was, for the moment, blocked out by the onslaught of adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Inwardly, Kurt cursed Mr. Terrence once more for the injury he'd inflicted. The captain wielded a cutlass in each blue, furry hand, and the glistening metal flashed in the morning sunlight as the pirate wrought his vengeance on his attackers. The pirate killed and maimed as if this were all a lethal dance, and his almost catlike grace provided a tempo to the orchestra that accompanied his slaughter. The snap and crack of pistols seemed like a sinister percussion section to the symphony of carnage, the clang of steel upon steel replaced the brass, and the screams and yells of men took the spot of the screeching strings.

Kurt had no such romantic comparisons in mind. His swords formed an X-shape to trap a mercenary's cutlass with a loud _clang_, and a skilled flick of the wrist sheared his opponent's blade clean off. Kurt pitched both of his weapons into the other man so hard that the tips emerged from the sailor's back, and the mutant wrenched his weapons free before blocking a heavy overhead swing. Kurt's leg lashed out and took the mercenary's feet from underneath him, slashing him across the chest and face as a spray of warm crimson dotted his blue cheeks. A beefy tar with huge arms grabbed Kurt around the neck so as to suffocate him, but Kurt snarled and sank his fangs deep into the flesh of his enemy's hand. The mercenary howled in pain and let by go pure reflex, and Kurt repaid his kindness by running him through and severing his spine. Two opponents rushed the pirate at the same time, and Kurt waited until they were almost upon him before ducking low. His enemies' swings missed him completely, and Kurt took that opportunity to kill both of them with a powerful stab to the stomach. The captain vaulted over his slain enemies and landed on the deck, his swords crossed over his chest, before leaping back into the fray.

McCoy's fighting style had all the refinement of a wrecking ball, and it was just as effective. The giant doctor, wounded in over a dozen places, swung his monstrous mallet all about him with devastating effect. The hammer, coated in blood and hair, created an eight-foot-wide, one-hundred and eighty degree "kill zone" that demolished any foe that was stupid enough to have strayed inside. Logan's men literally flew through the air, battered about like bloody baseballs with each mighty swing. McCoy gave a cavernous roar as his mallet obliterated a sailor's skull, spilling his brain on the deck. Without a second glance at his fallen foe, the doctor's giant hands grabbed another mercenary by his throat, wringing him like a chicken before tossing him aside like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Ribs were smashed, skulls were crushed, and limbs were flattened as the once-gentle physician vented his fury.

Labeau was in his element, too. He delighted in rolling grenadoes and explosives into clusters of Logan's men, and he cackled disturbingly as the sailors were shredded and maimed by the murderous blasts. The many pistols draped about his ragged finery clanked and jangled with his every move, and Labeau smiled cheekily as several of the pirate hunters took aim at him from the _Predator_'s railing. With an elegant flourish, he un-shouldered a massive, double-barreled blunderbuss reminiscent of the modern shotgun, and his powder-smudged face winked as he pulled the trigger.

"_Au revoir, mes amis," _Labeau laughed.

The monstrous firearm did its job well. No sooner had the powder in its barrel ignited than a mighty spray of grapeshot sprayed the _Predator_'s deck, eviscerating and dismembering almost any man caught in its devastating reach. Many of Logan's men were so filled with holes that they resembled nothing more than grotesque, bloody hunks of Swiss cheese. Those who survived were so disoriented by the smoke and noise that they made easy targets for Summers' sharpshooters up in the shrouds.

Summers, for his part, did his captain proud. The first mate held an axe in one hand and a dagger in the other, and the short, curved hatchet was dripping with gore. Summers neatly sidestepped a blow that would have pinned his stomach to his spine, and the razor-sharp axe blade promptly cleaved the man's skull in two. Summers stepped over the body and blocked a swipe to his side, the blade of his dagger rasping against his enemy's cutlass. The sword caught in the knife's hilt, and Summers used that distraction to ram his hatchet into his foe's neck. The mercenary's lifeblood left him in a crimson spout, and he dropped like a cannonball to join his fallen companion. Summers whirled around in time to parry a powerful blow to his head, and the first mate snarled savagely as he locked eyes with his foe. With a short, brutal motion, Summers lunged his head forward and broke the other man's nose. His enemy staggered, clutching his face, and Summers pinned his dagger to the mercenary's heart.

From stem to stern, from the deck to the bilges, the battle raged. The _Predator _and the _Sally Anne_ fired so close to each other that their cannon were almost touching, and bodies littered the two ships from fore and aft. The timbers became slippery with blood as the casualties rose, and Kurt found it increasingly difficult to keep his footing.

Catherine Pryde, still in Kurt's now-ruined cabin, could not believe the level of the slaughter. It was as if the Angel of Death himself had ascended from the Underworld to reap his bloody harvest that day. All the battles Catherine had seen since coming aboard the _Sally Anne _could not compare to this.

She wanted to help. She really did. But Catherine knew that being out there would only distract Kurt, and in situations like these, a distraction could be lethal. Her whole body burned with helpless fury, and a sudden splash of crimson partially obscured her view from the circular porthole.

In the midst of battle, Kurt Wagner, now sporting a lovely cut on his arm, locked eyes with the man he assumed to be the _Predator'_s captain. Fury boiled in his veins, and it was at that point that killing Logan became Kurt's only ambition in life. The pirate gnashed his fangs, swiping upward and splitting a man's head in two, and blood dripped off of his blades as he cut and slashed his way to his mortal enemy.

Logan's reaction was the same. He knew that killing Wagner would take all the starch out of these pirates, and a deep growl issued forth from his stocky chest as he renewed his onslaught with fresh fury. He ducked a decapitating swipe and ran his opponent through, while his blood-smeared sword shone dull-red in the mid-morning sun.

The two captains killed and slaughtered their way toward each other from opposite ends of the deck, and men fell before them in twos and threes. Pirate and mercenary carved a trail of blood and death across the _Sally Anne_, and hate suffused Kurt's features as he began to close the distance. His lungs heaved with exertion, sweat poured down his body, and his vision clouded red with the force of his wrath. His wounded arm pained him abominably from massive overuse, but Kurt did his best to block out the pain until his foe lay dead before him.

Logan, too, lost himself in the heat of battle. Kurt's men were slaughtered like pigs at the butcher, and the pirate hunter dragged his blade along the crimson-soaked timbers, bringing it up to guard his body as Kurt lunged at him.

In a single, epic moment, the two men finally clashed.

_KRANG!_

The fighting and potential danger around them was utterly forgotten as their swords met. The world only consisted of the two legendary fighters that had at last come to conflict. Logan came on strong with a heavy overhead swing, which Kurt went to block-

-But the pirate was surprised when Logan knocked the other sword from his hand instead, so as to even the odds. The blade slid across the deck, far out of reach, and Kurt repaid the trick by kicking Logan in the stomach. He gasped, and the _Predator_'s captain brought his sword up to block a thrust from his foe. A circular sweep of Logan's arm diverted the intended deathblow, and the pirate hunter followed this up with a slash at Kurt's chest. Kurt, true to form, skillfully parried the swipe and counterattacked with a semi-circular swing aimed at emptying Logan's belly. Logan, a skilled swordsman in his own right, stepped to one side while his cutlass made the air hiss as it swung at Kurt's head. Kurt tilted his head sharply, and the singing steel missed his head by less than a centimeter. The pirate aimed a low slash at Logan's leg, but his equally skilled opponent trapped his sword against the hilt of his own. The two of them strained and sweated as they struggled to gain the advantage over each other.

Kurt's voice was a hiss forced through his gritted fangs. "Did I kill a relative of yours or something?" he asked.

"Nope," Logan replied, backhanding him with a meaty fist. "Just business, bub."

The blow sent stars exploding in Kurt's vision, and he staggered backward, clutching his face. Logan, sensing the kill, moved in to finish his fallen enemy-

"_NO!"_

Catherine Pryde jumped seemingly from out of nowhere and threw herself over Kurt's stunned form. Logan's gore-soaked blade stopped only a whisper away from her heart.

The pirate hunter tried to keep his frustration from showing. "Stay out o' this, missy," he said. "This be no concern o' yours. Stand aside, I say."

Catherine's voice was calm and steady, her hands gentle as she cupped Kurt's face. "No. If he is to die, I will die with him."

So great was Catherine's cry just seconds past that the fighting was pulled into a momentary lull. Logan gazed down at her, scowling fiercely, and his mind wrestled with the question of what to do. The lady was no good to him dead, as Squire Lawrence certainly would pay the bounty if she weren't safe.

The young woman gazed back at him, unafraid. Though she did not speak, her eyes spoke volumes.

Logan's dark pupils widened slightly as they bored into hers. He _knew _what he was seeing in Catherine's blue depths, something that had made him cold and bitter all those years ago. The way Catherine had looked at Kurt…

Pain shot through Logan's chest. It was the same way his beloved Clarissa had once looked at him.

Some part of him, a part that had for so long remained hard and cold, slowly began to soften. The bitterness and anguish that had been Logan's companions for so many years vanished like ice in the microwave, as if he were reassured somehow that such love existed, this thing exemplified by this brave woman who'd been willing to lay down her life. Logan, being a soldier, respected courage, and this girl had plenty of it.

Logan gave a great sigh. It was widely said that there was nothing he would not do for the right price.

But no amount of money was worth destroying _this_.

Though Kurt was a pirate, the pain of heartbreak Logan had felt all these lonely years was something he wouldn't wish on even the most hardened criminal. Loathing for Squire Lawrence and his heartless selfishness filled Logan to his pores, and he abruptly fired a pistol into the air.

Both sides knew the gesture. Logan Howlett, the man who had never been beaten before, was calling for an honest-to-God cease-fire.

Kurt was bewildered by his foe's sudden show of charity, but that didn't stop him from leveling his sword at Logan's heart. The pirate hunter didn't look afraid at all, and his men followed his example by dropping their weapons.

"Terms?" Logan asked, dropping his own blade.

Kurt sighed and put up his sword, and his arm screamed in protest. There had been enough killing this day, and Logan had earned his respect as a worthy foe. "Take your men, and leave," he said wearily, leaning on his cutlass. "I've had my fill of violence, thank you very much."

Logan nodded, and motioned for his crew to swing back over to the _Predator_. As the hunter took a line in his hand, Kurt couldn't help but ask.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

Logan hesitated for a split second. "Don't matter," he growled, but then he turned his head to look back at him. "Take care o' her, Wagner," he said huskily. "Treat her right."

"Umm…Okay," Kurt said, bemused.

With a swing and a vault, Logan landed on the scarred and splintered deck of the _Predator_. Several well-placed axe blows severed the grappling lines, and the brig's now-tattered sails caught the fresh that pushed her away.

Logan was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

Summers, bloodied and tired, limped up to Kurt and tugged his ear. Labeau and the other officers were close behind. "Orders?" he asked simply.

Kurt wiped blood from his cheek and sat down heavily, his injured limb swollen and red. "Chart a course for our little island hideaway. My lady and my arm are sore need of repairs."

"Aye, sir."

_Boston, weeks later…_

Squire Lawrence clasped his hands behind his back, and his gaze never left the large office window that overlooked Boston harbor. He didn't turn his head as Logan Howlett slammed the door behind him.

"Well?" Lawrence asked haughtily. "Where is she? Catherine should be here by now!"

"She ain't in Boston," Logan growled. "And neither is Wagner, ya self-servin' moneybritches."

"WHAT?" Lawrence whirled around. "Where are they? Did you not catch them?"

"Nope," Logan replied calmly as he took a puff on his cigar.

Lawrence's face twisted into a gruesome mask. "I told you failure is not an option, you cur! I'll see you hang, do you hear me! The Admiralty will hear of this, and they'll hunt you dow- URK!" The landowner's tirade was cut short as Logan's dagger was driven into his body, and the last thing he ever heard was the pirate hunter's coarse voice in his ear.

"No," Logan murmured softly. "They won't."

_Meanwhile…_

The _Sally Anne, _fresh from her extensive repairs on Kurt's private island, dipped her stern in farewell to the lush green of the jungle. Kurt Wagner grinned hugely as her sails caught the salty breeze, and her still-fresh caulking made the vessel almost completely watertight. The carnage of war had been scrubbed from the _Sally Anne'_s timbers, and she now looked as sound as the day she was built.

Kurt turned the wheel slightly, but his concentration was broken as Catherine Pryde sidled up to him.

"Yes?" he asked, knowing full well what she was about to say.

A roguish grin played on Catherine's lips. "I think I would like to stay here a bit longer…_Captain._"

Kurt feigned surprise. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Catherine said, moving closer until their noses were almost touching.

"Yes," Kurt mirrored her breathlessly, before drawing her in for a kiss.

Catherine's eyes widened momentarily, but then her arms wrapped languidly around Kurt's neck as she leaned against him. Kurt felt joy and happiness and a myriad of feelings rise in his chest, and the feeling of Catherine's heartbeat against his own was an experience he knew he'd never tire of. Catherine felt almost drunk, but in a _good _way, and every fiber of her being knew without a doubt that her place was by Kurt's side, now and forever. So intense was the feeling of this wondrous kiss that Kurt didn't even notice that all of his men were staring at him.

When Kurt realized he needed oxygen, he broke away with obvious reluctance and pressed his brow against her own.

_Is it possible to die from happiness?_

Summers' voice cut off Kurt's lovestruck thoughts. "Do we have a heading, sir?"

"No," Kurt replied, gently taking Catherine's hand in his own. "But that does not matter. We go where the wind and waves take us, eh?"

Summers grinned. "Aye, Cap'n."

The _Sally Anne _cut through the sparkling waters like a knife through satin, on her endless search for plunder in the world's oceans.

And though her lanterns were not lit in daytime, the love from the two who grasped her wheel could have outshined the sun.

_~The End~_

A/N: Whoo-ee! That was an EPIC conclusion, if I do say so myself! ^^ And with that, we have reached the finale of "Devil of the Sea!" I thank you all for your readership and feedback, and a special thanks goes out to ObsessedWithNightcrawler, AmuletSpade, Christy-Flare, Blanc Expression, Indigo-Night-Wisp, Lyllian C.K. and pointyearsrule, for your continued reviews! I have been FLOORED by the responses I've been getting, and it gives me great pleasure to present this last installment as a gift to you all! ^^ I sincerely hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and if you have ANY ideas or suggestions on how I can make it better, LET ME KNOW! Finally, make sure to keep an eye out for the third and last volume in this series, "Demon Lord of the Frozen North," 'cause this trilogy ain't over yet! (I will most likely start on it after Christmas, so just be patient, my friends!)

I shall return…

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque


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